Journeys End In Lovers Meeting.

What Showers Arise, Blown With The Windy Tempest Of My Heart

A Woman Impudent And Mannish Grown Is Not More Loath'd Than An Effeminate Man.

How Sweet The Moonlight Sleeps Upon This Bank! Here Will We Sit, And Let The Sounds Of Music Creep In Our Ears; Soft Stillness And The Night Become The Touches Of Sweet Harmony. Sit, Jessica: Look, How The Floor Of Heaven Is Thick Inlaid With Patines Of Bright Gold; There's Not The Smallest Orb Which Thou Behold'st But In His Motion Like An Angel Sings, Still Quiring To The Young-eyed Cherubins. Such Harmony Is In Immortal Souls; But Whilst This Muddy Vesture Of Decay Doth Grossly Close It In, We Cannot Hear It.

To Sue To Live, I Find I Seek To Die; And, Seeking Death, Find Life: Let It Come On.

Trifles Light As Air Are To The Jealous Confirmations Strong As Proofs Of Holy Writ.