Thriftless Ambition, That Wilt Ravin Up Thine

No Stony Bulwark Can Resist The Love, And Love Dares What Anyone Can Love.

His Jest Will Savour But Of Shallow Wit, When Thousands Weep, More Than Did Laugh At It.

For You And I Are Past Our Dancing Days.

Winter's Not Gone Yet, If The Wild Geese Fly That Way.

All Fancy-sick She Is And Pale Of Cheer, With Sighs Of Love, That Costs The Fresh Blood Dear.