Great Sorrows Cannot Speak.

That Thou Remember Them, Some Claim As Debt; I Think It Mercy, If Thou Wilt Forget.

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?

Then Love Is Sin, And Let Me Sinful Be.

Commemoration Of Richard Meux Benson, Founder Of The Society Of St John The Evangelist, 1915 Our Critical Day Is Not The Very Day Of Our Death, But The Whole Course Of Our Life; I Thank Him, That Prays For Me When My Bell Tolls; But I Thank Him Much More, That Catechizes Me, Or Preaches To Me, Or Instructs Me How To Live.

Nothing But Man Of All Envenomed Things, Doth Work Upon Itself, With Inborn Stings.