And Oft, My Jealousy Shapes Faults That

And Blind Oblivion Swallowed Cities Up.

For Naught So Vile That On The Earth Doth Live But To The Earth Some Special Good Doth Give.

How Now, Wit! Whither Wander You?

There's Not A Shirt And A Half In All My Company, And The Half Shirt Is Two Napkins Tacked Together And Thrown Over The Shoulders Like A Herald's Coat Without Sleeves.

The Setting Sun, And The Music At The Close, As The Last Taste Of Sweets, Is Sweetest Last, Writ In Rememberance More Than Long Things Past.