Our Pleasance Here Is All

Noble Men In The Quiet Of Morning Hear Indians Singing The Continent's Violent Requiem.

London, Thou Art The Flower Of Cities All! Gemme Of All Joy, Jasper Of Jocunditie.

Your Law May Be Perfect, Your Knowledge Of Human Affairs May Be Such As To Enable You To Apply It With Wisdom And Skill, And Yet Without Individual Acquaintance With Men, Their Haunts And Habits, The Pursuit Of The Profession Becomes Difficult, Slow, And Expensive.

I That In Heill Wes And Gladnes Am Trublit Now With Gret Seiknes And Feblit With Infermite: Timor Mortis Conturbat Me.* * Fear Of Death Troubles Me.

Neither Our Vices Nor Our Virtues Further The Poem.