Weed Your Better Judgments Of All Opinion

Feed On Her Damask Cheek: She Pined In Thought, And With A Green And Yellow Melancholy She Sat Like Patience On A Monument, Smiling At Grief

'tis Thought The King Is Dead; We Will Not Stay. The Bay Trees In Our Country Are All Wither'd.

Once More Unto The Breach, Dear Friends, Once More; Or Close The Wall Up With Our English Dead! In Peace There's Nothing So Becomes A Man As Modest Stillness And Humility: But When The Blast Of War Blows In Our Ears, Then Imitate The Action Of The Tiger.

The Seasons Change Their Manners, As The Year Had Found Some Months Asleep And Leapt Them Over.

The Force Of His Own Merit Makes His Way-a Gift That Heaven Gives For Him.