Melancholy Is The Nurse Of

Her Father Lov'd Me; Oft Invited Me; Still Question'd Me The Story Of My Life, From Year To Year, The Battles, Sieges, Fortunes, That I Have Pass'd.

Weariness Can Snore Upon The Flint When Resting Sloth Finds The Down Pillow Hard.

Nothing Teems But Hateful Docks, Rough Thistles, Kecksies, Burs, Losing Both Beauty And Utility.

Affliction May One Day Smile Again; And Till Then, Sit Thee Down, Sorrow!.

O, How Full Of Briers Is This Working-day World!