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To th’ active Moon a quick brisk stroke he gave, To Saturn’s string a touch more sore and grave.

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Active Brisk Gave Grave Moon Quick Saturn Sore

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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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Angel Book Descend Few Friend Garden Grave House Small Wise
Does not the passage of Moses and the Israelites into the Holy Land yield incomparably more poetic variety than the voyages of Ulysses or Aeneas?
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Aenea Bible Holy Incomparably More Mose Passage Poetic Yield
It was not sleep that made him nod, he said, But too great weight and largeness of his head.
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Head Largeness Made Sleep Wight
Hope is the most hopeless thing of all.
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Believe Hope Hopeless Thing
Nothing so soon the drooping spirits can raise As praises from the men, whom all men praise.
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Drooping Encouragement Hard Praise Spirit Work
I never had any other desire so strong, and so like covetousness, as that
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Covetousness Desire House Life Master Nature Small Strong
This only grant me, that my means may lie, too low for envy, for contempt to high.
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Contempt Envy Grant High Lying Mean
Man is too near all kinds of beasts,–a fawning dog, a roaring lion, a thieving fox, a robbing wolf, a dissembling crocodile, a treacherous decoy, and a rapacious vulture.
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Beast Crocodile Dissembling Dog Fawning Man Roaring Robbing Thieving
Vain, weak-built isthmus, which dost proudly rise Up between two eternities!
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Build Eternity Isthmus Life Proudly Two
Fill the bowl with rosy wine, around our temples roses twine, And let us cheerfully awhile, like wine and roses, smile.
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Cheerful Rose Smile Temple Twine Wine
Nothing in Nature’s sober found, But an eternal Health goes round. Fill up the Bowl then, fill it high
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Bowl Drinking Eternal Fill Glass Man Nature Round Sober
Let’s banish business, banish sorrow; To the gods belong to-morrow.
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Banish Belong Business God Morrow Sorrow
Gold begets in brethren hate; Gold in families debate; Gold does friendship separate; Gold does civil wars create.
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Beget Brethren Debate Family Gold Hate War
Nature waits upon thee still, And thy verdant cup does fill; ‘Tis fill’d wherever thou dost tread, Nature’s self’s thy Ganymede.
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Cup Dost Ganymede Nature Self Thee Tread Upon Verdant Wait
The world’s a scene of changes.
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Change Nature Scene World
Why to mute fish should’st thou thyself discoverAnd not to me, thy no less silent lover?
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Discover Less Lover Mute Silent Thyself

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