There's Beggary In Love That Can Be

O For A Horse With Wings!

I...kisss The Tender Inward Of Thy Hand.

Short Time Seems Long In Sorrow's Sharp Sustaining.

The Proverb Is Something Musty.

O, How I Faint When I Of You Do Write, Knowing A Better Spirit Doth Use Your Name, And In The Praise Thereof Spends All His Might To Make Me Tongue-tied Speaking Of Your Fame.