Love Is A Growing, Or Full Constant

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

If We Consider Eternity, Into That Time Never Entered; Eternity Is Not An Everlasting Flux Of Time, But Time Is As A Short Parenthesis In A Long Period; And Eternity Had Been The Same As It Is, Though Time Had Never Been.

At The Round Earth's Imagined Corners, Blow Your Trumpets, Angels.

Busy Old Fool, Unruly Sun, Why Dost Thou Thus, Through Windows, And Through Curtains, Call On Us? Must To Thy Motions Lovers'seasons Run? Saucy Pedantic Wretch, Go Chide Late Schoolboys, And Sour Prentices, Go Tell Court-huntsmen That The King Will Ride, Call Countryants To Harvest Offices; Love, All Alike, No Season Knows, Nor Clime, Nor Hours, Days, Months, Which Are The Rags Of Time.

Who Knows His Virtues Name Or Place, Hath None.