I Hide My Grief, Just Like The

Don't Cry Upon You Losses Don't Mesure Today With Tommorows Don't Trust To Passed And Coming Day Believe In Now - And Be Happy Today.

You Know, My Friends, With What A Brave Carouse I Made A Second Marriage In My House; Favored Old Barren Reason From My Bed, And Took The Daughter Of The Vine To Spouse.

Better Be Jocund With The Fruitful Grape Than Sadden After None, Or Bitter, Fruit.

This Body Is A Tent Which For A Space Does The Pure Soul With Kingly Presence Grace; When He Departs, Comes The Tent-pitcher, Death, Strikes It, And Moves To A New Halting-place.

Myself When Young Did Eagerly Frequent Doctor And Saint, And Heard Great Argument About It And About: But Evermore Came Out By The Same Door As In I Went.