The Devil Can Cite Scripture

My Love Is Thaw'd; Which, Like A Waxen Image 'gainst A Fire, Bears No Impression Of The Thing It Was

Cold Indeed, And Labor Lost: Then Farewell Heat, And Welcome Frost!

How Low Am I, Thou Painted Maypole?

France Is A Dog-hole, And It No More Merits The Tread Of A Man's Foot.

But Love That Comes Too Late, Like A Remorseful Pardon Slowly Carried, To The Great Sender Turns A Sour Offense, Crying, 'that's Good That's Gone.