Nature and Homer were, he found, the same.

The very flower of youth.

Of surpassing beauty and in the bloom of youth.

Before I sigh my last gasp, let me breath, Great love, some Legacies, here I bequeath Mine eyes to Argus, if mine eyes can see, If they be blind, then Love I give them thee; My tongue to fame; to Ambassadors mine ears; to women or the sea, my tears. Thou, Love, has taught me heretofore

By making me serve her who had twenty more, that I should give to none, but such, as had too much before. My constancies I to the planets give; My truth to the, who at the Court doe live; Mine ingenuity and openness, To Jesuits; to Buffoons my pensiveness, My money to a Capuchin. Thou Love toughest me, by appointing me

To love there, where no love received can be, Only to give to such as have an incapacity. My faith I give to Roman Catholiques; All my good works unto the Schismatiks Of Amsterdam; my best civility And Courtship, to an Universitie; My modesty I give to souldiers bare; My patience let gamesters share. Thou Love taughtst me, by making me Love her that holds my love disparity.

Only to give to those that count my gifts indignity. I give my reputation to those Which were my friends; Mine Industrie to foes; To Schoolemen I bequeath my doubt-fulnesse; My sicknesses to physitians, or excesses; To Nature, all that in Ryme have writ; And to My company my wit. Thou Love, by making me adore Her, who begot this love in me be-fore,

Taughtst me to make, as thugh I gave, when I did not restore. To him for whom the passing bell next tolls, I give my physick bookes; my written rowles Of Morall counsels, I to Bedlam give; My brazen medals, unto them which live In want of bread; To them which pass among All forrainers, mine English tongue. Thou, Love, by making me love one who thinks her friendship a fit portion.

To feel the thorn points keenly But to grasp one fragrant rose To glimpse amid the darkness just one hight, inspiring gleam. To note thro’ lurid atmosphere One star that brightly glows To hold as sacred, sweet and pure One time enduring dream. To keep despite a sneering world One’s love of Truth and light to stand for the sake of peace, aside Tho’ glory lie in Strife; To smile tho’ all of earthly joy Has vanished from one’s sight; To wait the call to follow on All this, all this is life.

Who ran to help me when I fell, And would some pretty story tell, Or kiss the place to make it well? My Mother.

Somebody said that it couldn’t be done, But he with a chuckle replied That “maybe it couldn’t,” but he would be one Who wouldn’t say so till he’d tried. So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin On his face. If he worried he hid it. He started to sing as he tackled the thing---- That couldn’t be done, and he did it.

A friend is one who knows every-thing about you and still wants to be your friend.

If I were hanged on the highest hill, Mother o’ mine, O Mother o’ mine! I know whose love would follow me still, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

Whatever you want to do, do it now. There are only so many tomorrows.