Let The End Try The Man.

Tis Safter To Be That Which We Destroy Than By Destruction Dwell In Doubtful Joy.

I Have A Soul Of Lead So Stakes Me To The Ground I Cannot Move.

O Time, Thou Must Untangle This, Not I. It Is Too Hard A Knot For Me T'untie.

Yet This My Comfort: When Your Words Are Done, My Woes End Likewise With The Evening Sun.

Diseased Nature Oftentimes Breaks Forth In Strange Eruptions.