I Wish My Sun May

Wickedness Comes To Its Height By Degrees. He That Dares Say Of A Less Sin, Is It Not A Little One? Will Ere Long Say Of A Greater, Tush, God Regards It Not!

If Ever Wife Was Happy In A Man, Compare With Me, Ye Women If You Can.

When I Behold The Heavens As In Their Prime, And Then The Earth (though Old) Still Clad In Green, The Stones And Trees, Insensible Of Time, Nor Age Nor Wrinkle On Their Front Are Seen

I Am Obnoxious To Each Carping Tongue Who Says My Hand A Needle Better Fits.

I Happy Am, If Well With You.