Thy Wish Was Father, Harry, To That

Wishers Were Ever Fools.

... By Indirections Find Directions Out.

What Ugly Sights Of Death Within Mine Eyes!

The Happiest Youth, Viewing His Progress Through, What Perils Past, What Crosses To Ensue, Would Shut The Book, And Sit Him Down And Die.

Sin From Thy Lips? O Trespass Sweetly Urged! Give Me My Sin Again.