Prosperity's The Very Bond Of Love.

Thou Art An Elm, My Husband, I A Vine, Whose Weakness, Married To Thy Stronger State, Makes Me With Thy Strength To Communicate.

Thou Weigh'st Thy Words Before Thou Givest Them Breath.

Of All The Flowers, Me Thinks A Rose Is Best.

What Seest Thou Else In The Dark Backward And Abysm Of Time?

Some Say That Ever 'gainst The Season Comes Wherein Our Saviour's Birth Is Celebrated, The Bird Of Dawning Singeth All Night Long: And Then, They Say, No Spirit Can Walk Abroad; The Nights Are Wholesome; Then No Planets Strike, No Fairy Takes, Nor Wi