God Himself Took A Day To Rest

Who Are A Little Wise The Best Fools Be.

Doubt Wisely; In Strange Way To Stand Inquiring Right, Is Not To Stray; To Sleep, Or Run Wrong, Is.

I Wonder By My Troth, What Thou, And I Did, Till We Loved? Were We Not Weaned Till Then? But Sucked On Country Pleasures, Childishly? Or Snorted We In The Seven Sleepers' Den?

How Great Love Is, Presence Best Trial Makes, But Absence Tries How Long This Love Will Be.

Men Are Sponges, Which, To Pour Out, Receive; Who Know False Play, Rather Than Lose, Deceive. For In Best Understandings Sin Began, Angels Sinn'd First, Then Devils, And Then Man. Only Perchance Beasts Sin Not ; Wretched We Are Beasts In All But White Integrity.