How Imperfect Is All Our

My Love Though Silly Is More Brave.

Nature's Lay Idiot, I Taught Thee To Love.

Nothing But Man Of All Envenomed Things, Doth Work Upon Itself, With Inborn Stings.

One Short Sleep Past, We Wake Eternally, And Death Shall Be No More; Death, Thou Shalt Die.

Our Critical Day Is Not The Very Day Of Our Death; But The Whole Course Of Our Life.