If They Be Two, They Are Two

Christ Beats His Drum, But He Does Not Press Men; Christ Is Served With Voluntaries.

Love Built On Beauty, Soon As Beauty, Dies.

All Whom War, Dearth, Age, Agues, Tyrannies, Despair, Law, Chance, Hath Slain.

As Peace Is Of All Goodness, So War Is An Emblem, A Hieroglyphic, Of All Misery.

I Will Not Look Upon The Quickening Sun, But Straight Her Beauty To My Sense Shall Run; The Air Shall Note Her Soft, The Fire Most Pure; Water Suggest Her Clear, And The Earth Sure; Time Shall Not Lose Our Passages.