I Learn To Pity Woes So Like

Chaucer Followed Nature Everywhere, But Was Never So Bold To Go Beyond Her.

To Die Is Landing On Some Distant Shore.

Nature Meant Me A Wife, A Silly, Harmless, Household Dove, Fond Without Art, And Kind Without Deceit.

Only Man Clogs His Happiness With Care, Destroying What Is With Thoughts Of What May Be.

If You Are For A Merry Jaunt, I Will Try, For Once, Who Can Foot It Farthest.