We See Which Way The Stream Of

The Eagle Suffers Little Birds To Sing.

Like A Red Morn That Ever Yet Betokened, Wreck To The Seaman, Tempest To The Field, Sorrow To The Shepherds, Woe Unto The Birds, Gusts And Foul Flaws To Herdmen And To Herds.

But As The Unthought-on Accident Is Guilty To What We Wildly Do, So We Profess Ourselves To Be The Slaves Of Chance, And Flies Of Every Wind That Blows.

No Sooner Met But They Looked; No Sooner Looked But They Loved; No Sooner Loved But They Sighed; No Sooner Sighed But They Asked One Another The Reason; No Sooner Knew The Reason But They Sought The Remedy; And In These Degrees Have They Made A Pair Of Stairs To Marriage.

Get Thee A Good Husband, And Use Him As He Uses Thee.