A Woman Who Gives Any

Kill A Man's Family, And He May Brook It, But Keep Your Hands Out Of His Breeches' Pocket.

When Age Chills The Blood, When Our Pleasures Are Past - For Years Fleet Away With The Wings Of The Dove - The Dearest Remembrance Will Still Be The Last, Our Sweetest Memorial The First Kiss Of Love.

What Is Death, So It Be But Glorious? 'tis A Sunset; And Mortals May Be Happy To Resemble The Gods But In Decay.

Fair Greece! Sad Relic Of Departed Worth! Immortal, Though No More! Though Fallen, Great!

Muse Of The Many Twinkling Feet, Whose Charms Are Now Extending Up From Legs To Arms.