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To measure life learn thou betimes, and know
Toward solid good what leads the nearest way;
For other things mild Heaven a time ordains,

And disapproves that care, though wise in show,
That with superfluous burden loads the day,
And, when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains.

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WHOE'ER she be,

That not impossible She

That shall command my heart and me;

Where'er she lie,

Lock'd up from mortal eye

In shady leaves of destiny:




Till that ripe birth

Of studied Fate stand forth,

And teach her fair steps tread our earth;

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A face made up

Out of no other shop

Than what Nature's white hand sets ope.

Sydnaean showers

Of sweet discourse, whose powers

Can crown old Winter's head with flowers.

Whate'er delight

Can make day's forehead bright

Or give down to the wings of night.

Soft silken hours,

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Open suns, shady bowers;


'Bove all, nothing within that lowers.

Days, that need borrow

No part of their good morrow

From a fore-spent night of sorrow:

Days, that in spite

Of darkness, by the light

Of a clear mind are day all night.

Life, that dares send

A challenge to his end,

And when it comes, say, 'Welcome, friend.'

I wish her store

Of worth may leave her poor

Of wishes; and I wish- -10 more.

-Now, if Time knows

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