Death Where Is Thy Sting? Love, Where

For The Poor Wren (the Most Diminutive Of Birds) Will Fight, Her Young Ones In Her Nest, Against The Owl.

So May The Outward Shows Be Least Themselves; The World Is Still Deceived With Ornament.

Words Are Easy, Like The Wind; Faithful Friends Are Hard To Find.

For A Noble Heart, The Most Precious Gift Becomes Poor, When The Giver Stops Loving.

O Wretched State! O Bosom Black As Death!