He Touch'd The Tender Stops Of Various

Only This I Know, That One Celestial Father Gives To All.

For To Interpose A Little Ease, Let Our Frail Thoughts Dally With False Surmise.

No Date Prefixed Directs Me In The Starry Rubric Set.

Sport, That Wrinkled Care Derides, And Laughter Holding Both His Sides. Come And Trip It As Ye Go, On The Light Fantastic Toe.

So May'st Thou Live, Till Like Ripe Fruit Thou Drop Into Thy Mother's Lap, Or Be With Ease Gathered, Not Harshly Plucked, For Death Mature: This Is Old Age; But Then Thou Must Outlive Thy Youth, Thy Strength, Thy Beauty, Which Will Change To Withered Weak And Grey.