Virgil, Above All Poets, Had A Stock

All Flowers Will Droop In The Absence Of The Sun That Waked Their Sweets.

An Hour Will Come, With Pleasure To Relate Your Sorrows Past, As Benefits Of Fate.

Be Fair, Or Foul, Or Rain, Or Shine, The Joys I Have Possessed, In Spite Of Fate, Are Mine. Not Heaven Itself Upon The Past Has Power; But What Has Been, Has Been, And I Have Had My Hour.

Many Things Impossible To Thought Have Been By Need To Full Perfection Brought.

The Gods, (if Gods To Goodness Are Inclined If Acts Of Mercy Touch Their Heavenly Mind), And, More Than All The Gods, Your Generous Heart, Conscious Of Worth, Requite Its Own Desert!