Dear As The Light That

We Frolic While 'tis May.

If The Best Man's Faults Were Written On His Forehead, He Would Draw His Hat Over His Eyes.

Beyond The Limits Of A Vulgar Fate, Beneath The Good How Far,-but Far Above The Great.

Gay Hope Is Theirs By Fancy Fed, Less Pleasing When Possest; The Tear Forgot As Soon As Shed, The Sunshine Of The Breast.

Implores The Passing Tribute Of A Sigh.