162. TO ENJOY THE TIME
While fates permit us, let's be merry;
Pass all we must the fatal ferry;
And this our life, too, whirls away,
With the rotation of the day.
163. FELICITY QUICK OF FLIGHT
Every time seems short to be
That's measured by felicity;
But one half-hour that's made up here
With grief, seems longer than a year.
164. MIRTH
True mirth resides not in the smiling skin;
The sweetest solace is to act no sin.