In My Time, The Follies

Tenderness Is A Virtue.

He Makes A Very Handsome Corpse And Becomes His Coffin Prodigiously.

No Vernal Blooms Their Torpid Rocks Array, But Winter Lingering Chills The Lap Of May; No Zephyr Fondly Sues The Mountain's Breast, But Meteors Glare, And Stormy Glooms Invest.

People Seldom Improve When They Have No Other Model But Themselves To Copy.

Some Fleeting Good, That Mocks Me With The View.