He Who Kisses Joy As

But If At Church They Would Give Some Ale. And A Pleasant Fire Our Souls To Regale. We'd Sing And We'd Pray All The Live Long Day, Nor Ever Once From The Church To Stray.

The Old And New Testaments Are The Great Code Of Art.

Death Is Terrible, Tho' Borne On Angels' Wings!

None But Blockheads Copy Each Other.

Thou Fair-hair'd Angel Of The Evening, Now, Whilst The Sun Rests On The Mountains, Light Thy Bright Torch Of Love; Thy Radiant Crown Put On, And Smile Upon Our Evening Bed!