Fairest and foremost of the train… On man’s most dignified and happie… Whether we name thee Charity or L… Chief grace below, and all in all… Prosper (I press thee with a powe…

To watch the storms, and hear the… Give all our almanacks the lie; To shake with cold, and see the pl… In autumn drown’d with wintry rain… ’Tis thus I spend my moments here…

At length, my friend, the far-sent… Charged with thy kindness, to thei… They come, at length, from Deva’s… Where prone she seeks the salt Ve… Trust me, my joy is great that tho…

To grass, or leaf, or fruit, or wa… The snail sticks close, nor fears… As if he grew there, house and all Together. Within that house secure he hides,

They call thee rich—I deem thee p… Since, if thou darest not use thy… But savest only for thine heirs, The treasure is not thine, but the…

Of all the gifts Thine hand besto… Thou Giver of all good! Not heaven itself a richer knows Than my Redeemer’s blood. Faith too, the blood-receiving gra…

These are not dew-drops, these are… And tears by Sally shed For absent Robin, who she fears With too much cause, is dead. One morn he came not to her hand

Dear President, whose art sublime Gives perpetuity to time, And bids transactions of a day, That fleeting hours would waft awa… To dark futurity, survive,

Oh fond attempt to give a deathles… To names ignoble, born to be forgo… In vain recorded in historic page, They court the notice of a future… Those twinkling tiny lustres of th…

To keep the lamp alive, With oil we fill the bowl; ’Tis water makes the willow thrive… And grace that feeds the soul. The Lord’s unsparing hand

(Judges, VI.25) Jesus! whose blood so freely strea… To satisfy the law’s demand; By Thee from guilt and wrath rede… Before the Father’s face I stand.

Thus says the prophet of the Turk… Good musselman, abstain from pork! There is a part in every swine No friend or follower of mine May taste, whate’er his inclinatio…

Ah! reign, wherever man is found! My spouse, beloved and divine! Then I am rich, and I abound, When every human heart is thine. A thousand sorrows pierce my soul,

A poet’s cat, sedate and grave As poet well could wish to have, Was much addicted to inquire For nooks to which she might retir… And where, secure as mouse in chin…

While thirteen moons saw smoothly… The Nen’s barge-laden wave, All these, life’s rambling journey… Have found their home, the grave. Was man (frail always) made more f…