A Love Grown Old Is Not The

Nature, The Vicar Of The Almighty Lord.

Patience Is A Conquering Virtue.

How Potent Is The Fancy! People Are So Impressionable, They Can Die Of Imagination.

And As For Me, Thogh That I Can But Lyte, On Bakes For To Rede I Me Delyte, And To Hem Yeve I Feyth And Ful Credence, And In Myn Herte Have Hem In Reverence So Hertely, That Ther Is Game Noon, That Fro My Bokes Maketh Me To Goon, But Hit Be Seldom, On The Holyday; Save, Certeynly, When That The Month Of May Is Comen, And That I Here The Foules Singe, And That The Floures Ginnen For To Springe, Farwel My Book And My Devocion.

Purity In Body And Heart May Please Some--as For Me, I Make No Boast. For, As You Know, No Master Of A Household Has All Of His Utensils Made Of Gold; Some Are Wood, And Yet They Are Of Use.