I Do Oppose My Patience To His

They Have Been At A Great Feast Of Languages, And Stolen The Scraps.

Behold The Threaden Sails, Borne With The Invisible And Creeping Wind, Draw The Huge Bottoms Through The Furrow'd Sea, Breasting The Lofty Surge

O Helena, Goddess, Nymph, Perfect, Divine! To What, My Love, Shall I Compare Thine Eyne? Crystal Is Muddy. O, How Ripe In Show Thy Lips, Those Kissing Cherries, Tempting Grow!

Every Man Has Business And Desire, Such As It Is.

Never Shame To Hear What You Have Nobly Done