Oh, Flatter Me; For Love Delights In

Striving To Better, Oft We Mar What’s Well.

Thou Hast The Most Unsavoury Similes.

Men In Rage Strike Those That Wish Them Best.

What Many Men Desire--that 'many' May Be Meant By The Fool Multitude That Choose By Show, Not Learning More Than The Fond Eye Doth Teach, Which Pries Not To Th' Interior, But Like The Martlet Builds In The Weather On The Outward Wall, Even In The Force And Road Of Casualty.

The Morning Steals Upon The Night, Melting The Darkness.