What Wondrous Life Is This I Lead!

I Have A Garden Of My Own, But So With Roses Overgrown, And Lilies, That You Would It Guess To Be A Little Wilderness.

This Indigested Vomit Of The Sea,fell To The Dutch By Just Propriety.

No White Nor Red Was Ever Seen So Am'rous As This Lovely Green. Fond Lovers, Cruel As Their Flame, Cut In These Trees Their Mistress' Name. Little, Alas, They Know Or Heed How Far These Beauties Hers Exceed! Fair Trees! Where S'e'er Your Barks I Wound, No Name Shall But Your Own Be Found.

Music, The Mosaic Of The Air.

Thus, Though We Cannot Make Our Sun Stand Still, Yet We Will Make Him Run