I Heard A Bird So Sing, Whose

A Harmless Necessary Cat.

Go, Write It In A Martial Hand; Be Curst And Brief; It Is No Matter How Witty, So It Be Eloquent And Fun Of Invention: Taunt Him With The Licence Of Ink: If Thou Thou'st Him Some Thrice, It Shall Not Be Amiss; And As Many Lies As Will Lie In Thy Shee.

So Loving To My Mother, That He Might Not Beteem The Winds Of Heaven, Visit Her Face' Too Roughly.

So They Loved As Love In Twain Had The Essence But In One; Two Distinct, Divisions None.

The Gallantry Of His Grief Did Put Me Into A Towering Passion.