Then Love Is Sin, And Let Me

Doth Not A Man Die Even In His Birth? The Breaking Of Prison Is Death, And What Is Our Birth, But A Breaking Of Prison?

If Poisonous Minerals, And If That Tree, Whose Fruit Threw Death On Else Immortal Us, If Lecherous Goats, If Serpents Envious Cannot Be Damned; Alas; Why Should I Be?

We Can Die By It, If Not Live By Love, And If Unfit For Tombs And Hearse Our Legend Be, It Will Be Fit For Verse; And If No Peace Of Chronicle We Prove, We'll Build In Sonnet Pretty Rooms; As Well A Well Wrought Urne Becomes The Greatest Ashes, As Half-acre Tombs.

Men Have Conceived A Twofold Use Of Sleep; It Is A Refreshing Of The Body In This Life, And A Preparing Of The Soul For The Next.

If Ever Any Beauty I Did See, Which I Desired, And Got, 'twas But A Dream Of Thee.