Praising What Is Lost Makes The Remembrance

Thou Frothy Tickle-brained Hedge-pig!

Where Love Is Great, The Littlest Doubts Are Fear; Where Little Fears Grow Great, Great Love Grows There.

A Good Leg Will Fall; A Straight Back Will Stoop; A Black Beard Will Turn White; A Curl'd Pate Will Grow Bald; A Fair Face Will Wither; A Full Eye Will Wax Hollow: But A Good Heart, Kate, Is The Sun And The Moon; Or, Rather, The Sun, And Not The Moon, — For It Shines Bright, And Never Changes, But Keeps His Course Truly.

So Full Of Artless Jealousy Is Guilt, It Spills Itself In Fearing To Be Spilt.

My Mistress' Eyes Are Nothing Like The Sun