There Is Little Choice In A Barrel

Then Happy I That Love And Am Beloved, Where I May Not Remove Nor Be Removed.

Alas, That Love, Whose View Is Muffled Still, Should Without Eyes See Pathways To His Will!

Like A Dull Actor Now, I Have Forgot My Part, And I Am Out, Even To A Full Disgrace.

I Am Not In The Roll Of Common Men.

The Even Mead, That Erst Brought Sweetly Forth The Freckled Cowslip, Burnet, And Green Clover, Wanting The Scythe, All Uncorrected, Rank, Conceives By Idleness, And Nothing Teems But Hateful Docks, Rough Thistles, Kecksies, Burrs, Losing Both Beauty And Utility.