It Is In Pardoning That We Are

My Love's More Richer Than My Tongue.

I Wasted Time, And Now Doth Time Waste Me; For Now Hath Time Made Me His Numbering Clock: My Thoughts Are Minutes; And With Sighs They Jar Their Watches On Unto Mine Eyes, The Outward Watch, Whereto My Finger, Like A Dial's Point, Is Pointing Still, In Cleansing Them From Tears. Now Sir, The Sound That Tells What Hour It Is Are Clamorous Goans, Which Strike Upon My Heart, Which Is The Bell: So Sighs And Tears And Groans Show Minutes, Times, And Hours.

Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind, Thou Art Not So Unkind As Mans Ingratitude Thy Tooth Is Not So Keen, Because Thou Art Not Seen, Although Thy Breath Be Rude. Heigh-ho Sing, Heigh-ho Unto The Green Holly Most Friendship Is Feigning, Most Loving Mere Folly. Then Heigh-ho The Holly This Life Is Most Jolly. Freeze, Freeze, Thou Bitter Sky, That Dost Not Bite So Nigh As Benefits Forgot Though Thou The Waters Warp, Thy Sting Is Not So Sharp As Friend Rememberd Not.

Sweet Mercy Is Nobility's True Badge.

Like As The Waves Make Towards The Pebbled Shore, So Do Our Minutes Hasten To Their End; Each Changing Place With That Which Goes Before, In Sequent Toil All Forwards Do Contend.