He Nothing Common Did, Or

But At My Back I Always Hear Time's Winged Chariot Hurrying Near.

How Could Such Sweet And Wholesome Hours Be Reckoned, But In Herbs And Flowers?

Had It Lived Long, Is Would Have Been Lilies Without, Roses Within.

I Have A Garden Of My Own, But So With Roses Overgrown, And Lilies, That You Would It Guess To Be A Little Wilderness.

How Vainly Men Themselves Amaze To Win The Palm, The Oak, Or Bays; And Their Uncessant Labours See Crown'd From Some Single Herb Or Tree. Whose Short And Narrow Verged Shade Does Prudently Their Toils Upbraid; While All Flow'rs And All Trees Do Close To Weave The Garlands Of Repose.