His Heart As Far From Fraud As

O, Grief Hath Changed Me Since You Saw Me Last, And Careful Hours With Time's Deformed Hand Have Written Strange Defeatures In My Face. But Tell Me Yet, Dost Thou Not Know My Voice?

Hereditary Sloth Instructs Me.

Is There No Pity Sitting In The Clouds, That Sees Into The Bottom Of My Grief?

When Great Leaves Fall, The Winter Is At Hand.

Where Love Is Great, The Littlest Doubts Are Fear; Where Little Fears Grow Great, Great Love Grows There.