In Sooth I Know Not Why I

Because It Is A Customary Cross, As Die To Love As Thoughts, And Dreams, And Sighs, Wishes, And Tears, Poor Fancy's Followers.

Our Rash Faults Make Trivial Price Of Serious Thing We Have, Not Knowing Them Until We Know Their Grave.

The Weight Of This Sad Time We Must Obey, Speak What We Feel, Not What We Ought To Say. The Oldest Hath Borne Most: We That Are Young Shall Never See So Much, Nor Live So Long.

If She Be Fair And Wise, Fairness And Wit, The One's For Use, The Other Useth It.

Let Me Twine Mine Arms About That Body, Where Against My Grained Ash An Hundred Times Hath Broke And Scarr'd The Moon With Splinters: Here I Clip The Anvil Of My Sword, And Do Contest As Hotly And As Nobly With Thy Love As Ever In Ambitious Strength I Did Contend Against Thy Valour. Know Thou First, I Loved The Maid I Married; Never Man Sigh'd Truer Breath; But That I See Thee Here, Thou Noble Thing! More Dances My Rapt Heart Than When I First My Wedded Mistress Saw Bestride My Threshold.