Have not all past human beings parted, And must not all the present, one day part?
The devil was the first democrat
A thirst for gold, The beggar's vice, which can but overwhelm The meanest hearts.
A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded.
It is when we think we lead that we are most led.
Just as old age is creeping on space, And clouds come o'er the sunset of our day, They kindly leave us, though not quite alone, But in good company--the gout or stone.