Of All The Paths [that] Lead To

My Virginity, That From My Childhood Kept Me Company, Is Heavier Than I Can Endure To Bear. Forgive Me, Cupid, For Thou Art God, And I A Wretched Creature: I Have Sinn'd; But Be Thou Merciful, And Grant That Yet I May Enjoy What Thou Wilt Have Me Love!

Daisies Smell-less, Yet Most Quaint, And Sweet Thyme True, Primrose, First Born Child Of Ver, Merry Spring-time's Harbinger.

Let No Man Fear To Die, We Love To Sleep All, And Death Is But The Sounder Sleep.

Envy, Like The Worm, Never Runs But To The Fairest Fruit; Like A Cunning Bloodhound, It Singles Out The Fattest Deer In The Flock.

As High As Heaven, As Deep As Hell.