Man Has Not A Greater

How Quick The Old Woe Follows A Little Bliss!

Alack Our Life, So Beautiful To See, With How Much Ease Life Losest, In A Day, What Many Years With Pain And Toil Amassed!

Books Come At My Call And Return When I Desire Them; They Are Never Out Of Humor And They Answer All My Questions With Readiness. Some Present In Review Before Me The Events Of Past Ages; Others Reveal To Me The Secrets Of Nature. These Teach Me How To Live, And Those How To Die; These Dispel My Melancholy By Their Mirth, And Amuse Me By Their Sallies Of Wit. Some There Are Who Prepare My Soul To Suffer Everything, To Desire Nothing, And To Become Thoroughly Acquainted With Itself. In A Word, They Open The Door To All The Arts And Sciences.

What Name To Call Thee By, O Virgin Fair, I Know Not, For Thy Looks Are Not Of Earth And More Than Mortal Seems Thy Countenances

Often On Earth The Gentlest Heart Is Fain To Feed And Banquet On Another's Woe.