All Things Are Subject To

Sure There's Contagion In The Tears Of Friends.

I Strongly Wish For What I Faintly Hope; Like The Daydreams Of Melancholy Men, I Think And Think In Things Impossible, Yet Love To Wander In That Golden Maze.

Order Is The Greatest Grace.

Not Heav'n Itself Upon The Past Has Pow'r; But What Has Been, Has Been, And I Have Had My Hour.

The Glorious Lamp Of Heaven, The Radiant Sun, Is Nature's Eye.