|
Lord, 'tis Thy plenty-dropping hand That soils my land; And giv'st me, for my bushel sown, Twice ten for one; Thou mak'st my teeming hen to lay Her egg each day; Besides my healthful ewes to bear Me twins each year; The while the conduits of my kine Run cream, for wine. All these, and better, Thou dost send Me, to this end, That I should render, for my part, A thankful heart...
Go to Quote / Comment
|
|
What is a kiss? Why this, as some approve: The sure, sweet cement, glue, and lime of love.
Go to Quote / Comment
|
|
Who with a little cannot be content, endures an everlasting punishment.
Go to Quote / Comment
|
|
Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today,
Tomorrow will be dying.
Go to Quote / Comment
|
|
Attempt the end and never stand to doubt; Nothing's so hard, but search will find it out.
Go to Quote / Comment
|