T is the will that makes the action good or ill.
In vain our labours are, whatsoe'er they be, unless God gives the Benediction.
Roses at first were white, Till thy co'd not agree, Whether my Sapho's breast, Or they more white sho'd be.
Gather ye rosebuds, while ye may.
My soul I'll pour into thee.
Bid me to love, and I will give a loving heart to thee.