When nations grow old the Arts grow cold And commerce settles on every tree
Mysteries are not to be solved. They eye goes blind when it only wants to see why.
Those who restrain their desires, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained.
Active Evil is better than Passive Good.
Then the Parson might preach, & drink, & sing, And we'd be as happy as birds in the spring; And modest dame Lurch, who is always at Church, Would not have bandy children, nor fasting, nor birch.
Abstinence sows sand all over The ruddy limbs and flaming hair, But desire gratified Plants fruits of life and beauty there.