Of All The Flowers, Me Thinks A

Opinion, A Sovereign Mistress Of Effects.

She Is A Woman, Therefore To Be Won.

Young Adam Cupid, He That Shot So Trim, When King Cophetua Loved The Beggar-maid!

Look, The World's Comforter, With Weary Gait, His Day's Hot Task Hath Ended In The West: The Owl, Night's Herald, Shrieks-'tis Very Late; The Sheep Are Gone To Fold, Birds To Their Nest; And Coal-black Clouds, That Shadow Heaven's Light, Do Summon Us To Part, And Bid Good Night.

O' What May Man Within Him Hide, Though Angel On The Outward Side!