Bankrupt Of Life, Yet Prodigal Of Ease.

Love Works A Different Way In Different Minds, The Fool It Enlightens And The Wise It Blinds.

Love Is A Child That Talks In Broken Language, Yet Then He Speaks Most Plain.

Riches Cannot Rescue From The Grave, Which Claims Alike The Monarch And The Slave.

Thus All Below Is Strength, And All Above Is Grace.

For Thee, Sweet Month; The Groves Green Liveries Wear. If Not The First, The Fairest Of The Year; For Thee The Graces Lead The Dancing Hours, And Nature's Ready Pencil Paints The Flowers. When Thy Short Reign Is Past, The Feverish Sun The Sultry Tropic Fears, And Moves More Slowly On.