Time! where didst thou those years inter Which I have seene decease?
The stars, bright sentinels of the skies.
I hate the countrie's dirt and manners, yet I love the silence; I embrace the wit; A courtship, flowing here in full tide. But loathe the expense, the vanity and pride. No place each way is happy.
As yourselves your empires fall, and every kingdom hath a grave.
No distinction is 'tween man and man,
But as his virtues add to him a glory
Or vices cloud him.
He who is good is happy.
My soule her wings doth spread
And heaven-ward flies,
Th' Almighty's Mysteries to read
In the large volumes of the skies.
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