The Childhood Shows The Man, As Morning

Nor Jealousy Was Understood, The Injur'd Lover's Hell.

There Is No Truth Sure Enough To Justify Persecution.

Come To The Sunset Tree! The Day Is Past And Gone; The Woodman's Axe Lies Free, And The Reaper's Work Is Done.

Methought I Saw My Late Espoused Saint.

How Soon Hath Time, The Subtle Thief Of Youth, Stolen On His Wing My Three-and-twentieth Year!