He Doth Nothing But Talk

And Send Him Many Years Of Sunshine Days!

All Furnished, All In Arms; All Plum'd Like Estridges That With The Wind Bated Like Eagles Having Lately Bathed; Glittering In Golden Coats Like Images; As Full Of Spirit As The Month Of May And Gorgeous As The Sun At Midsummer; Wanton As Youthful Goats, Wild As Young Bulls.

Truth Is Truth To The End Of Reckoning.

Things Won Are Done, Joy's Soul Lies In The Doing.

As You From Crimes Would Pardon'd Be, Let Your Indulgence Set Me Free.