These Words Are Razors To My Wounded

But I Am Constant As The Northern Star, Of Whose True Fixed And Resting Quality There Is No Fellow In The Firmament.

Love's Stories Written In Love's Richest Books. To Fan The Moonbeams From His Sleeping Eyes.

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!

Tis Not The Many Oaths That Make The Truth; But The Plain Single Vow, That Is Vow'd True.

And Be These Juggling Friends No More Believ'd, That Palter With Us In A Double Sense; That Keep The Word Of Promise To Our Ear And Break It To Our Hope.