Death Forerunneth Love To Win "sweetest Eyes

Life, Struck Sharp On Death, Makes Awful Lightning.

A Grave, On Which To Rest From Singing?

But I Love You, Sir: And When A Woman Says She Loves A Man, The Man Must Hear Her, Though He Love Her Not.

Folded Eyes See Brighter Colors Than The Open Ever Do.

For Me, My Heart, That Erst Did Go Most Like A Tired Child At A Show, That Sees Through Tears The Mummers Leap, Would Now Its Wearied Vision Close, Would Childlike On His Love Repose, Who Giveth His Beloved, Sleep.