Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep! He, like the world, his ready visit pays Where fortune smiles; the wretched he forsakes.
Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow.
The soul of man was made to walk the skies.
And friend received with thumps upon the back.
We push time from us, and we wish him back; * * * * * * Life we think long and short; death seek and shun.
Truth never was indebted to a lie