How sweet I roamed from field to field, and tasted all the summer's pride.

Every Night and every MornSome to Misery are born.Every Morn and every NightSome are born to Sweet Delight,Some are born to Endless Night.

The soul of sweet delight, can never be defiled.

The pride of the peacock is the glory of God.

Sour, sweet, bitter, pungent, all must be tasted

Who has never tasted what is bitter does not know what is sweet.