Ye Country Comets, That Portend No War,

What Wondrous Life Is This I Lead! Ripe Apples Drop About My Head.

Though I Carry Always Some Ill-nature About Me, Yet It Is, I Hope, No More Than Is In This World Necessary For A Preservative.

Had We But World Enough, And Time, This Coyness Lady Were No Crime. We Would Sit Down, And Think Which Way To Walk, And Pass Our Long Love's Day. Thou By The Indian Ganges'side Shouldst Rubies Find: I By The Tide Of Humber Would Complain. I Would Love You Ten Years Before The Flood.

Art Indeed Is Long, But Life Is Short.

Casting The Body's Vest Aside, My Soul Into The Boughs Does Glide.