The Love Of Heaven Makes One Heavenly.

Flower Of This Purple Dye, Hit With Cupid's Archery, Sink In Apple Of His Eye.

There Is No Sure Foundation Set On Blood, No Certain Life Achieved By Others' Death.

Many Strokes, Though With A Little Axe, Hew Down And Fell The Hardest-timber'd Oak.

Shine Out Fair Sun, Till I Have Bought A Glass, That I May See My Shadow As I Pass.

O Comfort-killing Night, Image Of Hell, Dim Register And Notary Of Shame, Black Stage For Tragedies And Murders Fell, Vast Sin-concealing Chaos, Nurse Of Blame!