For in and out, above, about, below, 'Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show, Played in a Box whose Candle is the Sun, Round which we Phantom Figures come and go.

Heaven but the vision of fulfilled desire, and Hell the shadow from a soul on fire.

He who has one enemy shall meet him everywhere.

Oh! My beloved! fill the cup, that clears to-day of past regrets and future fears.

Living Life Tomorrow's fate, though thou be wise, Thou canst not tell nor yet surmise; Pass, therefore, not today in vain, For it will never come again.

Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! That Youths sweet-scented Manuscript should close!

Dead yesterdays and unborn tomorrows, why fret about it, if today be sweet.