Roses At First Were White,

The Person Lives Twice Who Lives The First Life Well

Our Present Tears Here, Not Our Present Laughter Are But The Handsells Of Our Joys Hereafter.

Cherry-ripe, Ripe, Ripe, I Cry, Full And Fair Ones; Come And Buy. If So Be You Ask Me Where They Do Grow, I Answer: There, Where My Julia's Lips Do Smile; There's The Land, Or Cherry-isle, Whose Plantations Fully Show All The Year Where Cherries Grow.

Each Must In Virtue Strive For To Excel; That Man Lives Twice That Lives The First Life Well.

The Readiness Of Doing Doth Expresse No Other But The Doer's Willingnesse.