Love Is A Spirit All Compact Of

Thou Art Thy Mother's Glass, And She In Thee Calls Back The Lovely April Of Her Prime...

Take All The Swift Advantage Of The Hours.

What Power Is It Which Mounts My Love So High, That Makes Me See, And Cannot Feed Mine Eye

Go Hang Yourself, You Naughty Mocking Uncle!

If You Have Tears, Prepare To Shed Them Now.