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Our yesterday’s to-morrow now is gone, And still a new to-morrow does come on. We by to-morrow draw out all our store, Till the exhausted well can yield no more.

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Doe Draw Gone Morrow New Store Yesterday Yield

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The present is an eternal now.
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Poets by Death are conquer’d but the wit Of poets triumphs over it.
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Let’s banish business, banish sorrow; To the gods belong to-morrow.
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Unbind the charms that in slight fables lie and teach that truth is truest poesy.
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Lukewarmness I account a sin, as great in love as in religion.
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When Israel was from bondage led,Led by the Almighty’s handFrom out of foreign land,The great sea beheld and fled.
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Ah, yet, e’er I descend to th’ grave, May I a small House and a large Garden have. And a few Friends, and many Books both true
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All this world’s noise appears to me a dull, ill-acted comedy!
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Plenty, as well as Want, can separate friends.
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Who that has reason, and his smell, Would not among roses and jasmin dwell?
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The spade, the plough-share, and the rake) Arts, in most cruel wise Man’s left to epitomize!
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:Though so exalted sheAnd I so lowly beTell her, such different notes make all thy harmony.
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To be a husbandman, is but a retreat from the city; to be a philosopher, from the world; or rather, a retreat from the world, as it is man’s, into the world, as it is God’s.
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The world’s a scene of changes.
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