In Sober Mornings Do Not Thou Rehearse

Tis Not The Food, But The Content, That Makes The Table's Merriment.

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

Tears Are The Noble Language Of Eyes, And When True Love Of Words Is Destitute. The Eye By Tears Speak, While The Tongue Is Mute.

Next, When I Cast Mine Eyes And See That Brave Vibration Each Way Free, O How That Glittering Taketh Me!

Go To Your Banquet Then, But Use Delight So As To Rise Still With An Appetite.