Our Reason Is Our Law.

More Safe I Sing With Mortal Voice, Unchang'd To Hoarse Or Mute, Though Fall'n On Evil Days, On Evil Days Though Fall'n, And Evil Tongues.

In Argument With Men A Woman Ever Goes By The Worse, Whatever Be Her Cause.

He Touch'd The Tender Stops Of Various Quills, With Eager Thought Warbling His Doric Lay.

Beyond Is All Abyss, Eternity, Whose End No Eye Can Reach.

On The Morning Of Christ's Nativity Perhaps Their Loves, Or Else Their Sheep, Was All That Did Their Silly Thoughts So Busy Keep.