Gold Can Gild A Rotten Stick, And

To Be Rhymed To Death As Is Said To Be Done In Ireland.

Ring Out Your Bells! Let Mourning Show Be Spread! For Love Is Dead.

Fool," Said My Muse To Me. "look In Thy Heart And Write.

For The Uttering Sweetly And Properly The Conceit Of The Mind, English Hath It Equally With Any Other Tongue In The World.

The Day Seems Long, But Night Is Odious; No Sleep, But Dreams; No Dreams But Visions Strange.