Cheerily To Sea; The Signs Of War

I Will Kill Thee A Hundred And Fifty Ways.

Were Beauty Under Twenty Locks Kept Fast, Yet Love Breaks Through And Picks Them All At Last.

Thanks, Sir; All The Rest Is Mute.

For Death Remembered Should Be Like A Mirror, Who Tells Us Life’s But Breath, To Trust It Error.

Wine Loved I Deeply, Dice Dearly.