Thou Art An Elm, My

Beauty Too Rich For Use, For Earth Too Dear.

Death Lies On Her Like An Untimely Frost.

Th Abuse Of Greatness Is When It Disjoins Remorse From Power.

'tis Better To Be Vile Than Vile Esteemed, When Not To Be, Receives Reproach Of Being, And The Just Pleasure Lost, Which Is So Deemed, Not By Our Feeling, But By Others' Seeing.

Thrift, Thrift, Horatio! The Funeral Bak'd Meats Did Coldly Furnish Forth The Marriage Tables.