A spark neglected makes a mighty fire.

But ne'er the rose without the thorn.

Some asked me where the rubies grew, And nothing I did say; But with my finger pointed to The lips of Julia.

Men are suspicious; prone to discontent: Subjects still loathe the present Government.

In prayer the lips ne'er act the winning part, Without the sweet concurrence of the heart.

Things are evermore sincere; / Candor here, and lustre there / Delighting.

Bid me to love, and I will give a loving heart to thee.