To Know And Feel All This And

When I Died Last, And, Dear, I Die As Often As From Thee I Go Though It Be But An Hour Ago, And Lovers' Hours Be Full Eternity.

But Think That We Are But Turned Aside To Sleep.

And New Philosophy Calls All In Doubt, The Element Of Fire Is Quite Put Out; The Sun Is Lost, And The Earth, And No Mans Wit Can Well Direct Him Where To Look For It.

The Heavens Rejoice In Motion, Why Should I Abjure My So Much Loved Variety.

Wicked Is Not Much Worse Than Indiscreet.