Fire That's Closest Kept Burns Most Of

As You From Crimes Would Pardon'd Be, Let Your Indulgence Set Me Free.

He That Is Giddy Thinks The World Turns Round.

Though Now This Grained Face Of Mine Be Hid In Sap-consuming Winter's Drizzled Snow, And All The Conduits Of My Blood Froze Up, Yet Hath My Night Of Life Some Memory, My Wasting Lamps Some Fading Glimmer Left, My Dull Deaf Ears A Little Use To Hear.

Finish, Good Lady; The Bright Day Is Done, And We Are For The Dark.

I Have Had A Most Rare Vision. I Have Had A Dream, Past The Wit Of Man To Say What Dream It Was.