Give Me A Bowl Of Wine, In

Thou Ominous And Fearful Owl Of Death.

I Love Thee, I Love Thee With A Love That Shall Not Die. Till The Sun Grows Cold And The Stars Grow Old.

In Nature's Infinite Book Of Secrecy A Little I Can Read.

Love's Fire Heats Water, Water Cools Not Love.

Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer Day? Thou Art More Lovely And More Temperate... When In Eternal Lines To Time Thou Growst So Long As Men Can Breathe Or Eyes Can See, So Long Lives This, And This Gives Life To Thee.