The World No Longer Lets

Some Laborers Have Hard Hands, And Old Sinners Have Brawny Consciences.

I Am Obnoxious To Each Carping Tongue/ Who Says My Hand A Needle Better Fits./ A Poet's Pen All Scorn I Should Thus Wrong/ For Such Despite They Cast On Female Wits;/ If What I Do Prove Well, It Won't Advance,/ They'll Say It's Stolen, Or Else, It Was By Chance.

The Spring Is A Lively Emblem Of The Resurrection.

Iron Till It Be Thoroughly Heated Is Incapable To Be Wrought; So God Sees Good To Cast Some Men Into The Furnace Of Affliction, And Then Beats Them On His Anvil Into What Frame He Desires.

My Hope And Treasure Lies Above