For Men To Tell How Human Life

See Golden Days, Fruitful Of Golden Deeds, With Joy And Love Triumphing.

But Infinite In Pardon Is My Judge.

Thy Liquid Notes That Close The Eye Of Day.

That Virtue Therefore Which Is But A Youngling In The Contemplation Of Evil, And Knows Not The Utmost That Vice Promises To Her Followers, And Rejects It, Is But A Blank Virtue, Not A Pure; Her Whiteness Is But An Excremental Whiteness.

With Eyes Of Conjugal Attraction Unreprov'd. Imparadised In One Another's Arms. With Thee Conversing I Forget All Time. And Feel That I Am Happier Than I Know.