E'en Beauty mourns in her decaying bower, That Time upon her angel brow should set His crooked autograph, and mar the jet Of glossy locks. Lo! how…

- Isaac Mclellan

The rich pearl of life, Soon moulders in its blackened urn, the tomb.

- Isaac Mclellan

On every thing are traced decay and change. Look! how the shifting seasons slip away.

- Isaac Mclellan

Go and walk with Nature; thou wilt find Full many a gem in her enchanted cup.

- Isaac Mclellan

Time's flying wheel leaves little trace behind.

- Isaac Mclellan