We Credit Most Our Sight; One Eye

When Words We Want, Love Teacheth To Indite; And What We Blush To Speak, She Bids Us Write.

A Little Saint Best Fits A Little Shrine, A Little Prop Best Fits A Little Vine, As My Small Cruse Best Fits My Little Wine.

Fain Would I Kiss My Julia's Dainty Leg, Which Is As White And Hairless As An Egg.

I Sing Of Brooks, Of Blossoms, Birds, And Bowers: Of April, May, Or June, And July Flowers. I Sing Of Maypoles, Hock-carts, Wassails, Wakes, Of Bridegrooms, Brides, And Of The Bridal Cakes.

Temptations Hurt Not, Though They Have Accesse; Satan O'ercomes None But By Willingnesse.