Wealth Cannot Make A Life, But Love.

I Sing Of Brooks, Of Blossoms, Birds, And Bowers: Of April, May, Or June, And July Flowers. I Sing Of Maypoles, Hock-carts, Wassails, Wakes, Of Bridegrooms, Brides, And Of The Bridal Cakes.

Before Man's Fall The Rose Was Born,st. Ambrose Says, Without The Thorn;but For Man's Fault Then Was The Thornwithout The Fragrant Rose-bud Born; But Ne'er The Rose Without The Thorn.

Who With A Little Cannot Be Content, Endures An Everlasting Punishment.

Wealth Cannot Make A Life, But Love.

Tis Hard To Find God, But To Comprehend Him, As He Is, Is Labour Without End.