Nature Meant Me A Wife, A Silly,

A Knock-down Argument; 'tis But A Word And A Blow.

Only Man Clogs His Happiness With Care, Destroying What Is With Thoughts Of What May Be.

Death Only This Mysterious Truth Unfolds, The Mighty Soul How Small A Body Holds.

Fortune Confounds The Wise, And When They Least Expect It Turns The Dice.

For Thee, Sweet Month; The Groves Green Liveries Wear. If Not The First, The Fairest Of The Year; For Thee The Graces Lead The Dancing Hours, And Nature's Ready Pencil Paints The Flowers. When Thy Short Reign Is Past, The Feverish Sun The Sultry Tropic Fears, And Moves More Slowly On.