Fade, flowers, fade! Nature will have it so; 'tis but what we in our autumn do.

With wisdom fraught; not such as books, but such as practice taught.

Stronger by weakness, wiser men become.

Vexed sailors cursed the rain, for which poor shepherds prayed in vain.

Others may use the ocean as their road; Only the English make it their abode.

Happy is she that from the world retires, and carries with her what the world admires.

For all we know Of what the blessed do above Is, that they sing, and that they love. While I listen to thy Voice.