Do Not Swear By The Moon, For

I Am But Mad North-north-west. When The Wind Is Southerly, I Know A Hawk From A Handsaw.

Alas, That Love, Whose View Is Muffled Still, Should Without Eyes See Pathways To His Will!

I Can No Longer Live By Thinking.

Past And To Come, Seems Best; Things Present, Worse.

Where Love Is Great, The Littlest Doubts Are Fear; Where Little Fears Grow Great, Great Love Grows There.