I Have A Garden Of

Let Us Roll All Our Strength, And All Our Sweetness, Up Into One Ball: And Tear Our Pleasures With Rough Strife, Through The Iron Gates Of Life. Thus, Though We Cannot Make Our Sun Stand Still, Yet We Will Make Him Run.

What Wondrous Life Is This I Lead! Ripe Apples Drop About My Head.

Among The Blind The One-eyed Blinkard Reigns

Gather The Flowers, But Spare The Buds.

The World In All Doth But Two Nations Bear- The Good, The Bad; And These Mixed Everywhere.