Be sure they sleep not whom God needs.
Where the apple reddens never pry - lest we lose our Edens, Eve and I.
Rejoice that man is hurled, From change to change unceasingly, His soul's wings never furled!
A man in armour is his armour's slave.
Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made. Our times are in his hand who saith, 'A whole I planned, youth shows but half; Trust God: See all, nor be afraid!
Take away love and our earth is a tomb.