What If This Present Were The World's

From Rest And Sleep, Which But Thy Pictures Be, Much Pleasure, Then From Thee Much More, Must Flow, And Soonest Our Best Men With Thee Do Go, Rest Of Their Bones, And Soul's Delivery.

And What Is So Intricate, So Entangling As Death? Who Ever Got Out Of A Winding Sheet?

Reason Is Our Soul's Left Hand, Faith Her Right, By These We Reach Divinity

I Long To Talk With Some Old Lover's Ghost, Who Died Before The God Of Love Was Born.

The Day Breaks Not, It Is My Heart.