Truth Hath A Quiet Breast.

Haste Is Needful In A Desperate Case.

Feed On Her Damask Cheek: She Pined In Thought, And With A Green And Yellow Melancholy She Sat Like Patience On A Monument, Smiling At Grief

And Then He Drew A Dial From His Poke, And Looking With Lack-lustre Eye, Says Very Wisely, 'it Is Ten O'clock: Thus We May See', Quoth He, 'how The World Wags: 'tis But An Hour Ago Since It Was Nine, And After One Hour More 'twill Be Eleven; And So From Hour To Hour We Ripe And Ripe, And Then From Hour To Hour We Rot And Rot.

I Am Not Bound To Please Thee With My Answer.

It Is To Be All Made Of Fantasy, All Made Of Passion And All Made Of Wishes, All Adoration, Duty, And Observance, All Humbleness, All Patience And Impatience, All Purity, All Trial, All Observance