When Great Leaves Fall, The Winter Is

Who Would Be So Mocked With Glory, Or To Live But In A Dream Of Friendship, To Have His Pomp And All What State Compounds But Only Painted, Like His Varnished Friends?

What's The Newest Grief? Each Minute Tunes A New One.

Thy Words, I Grant Are Bigger, For I Wear Not, My Dagger In My Mouth.

For Thou Hast Given Me In This Beauteous Face A World Of Earthly Blessings To My Soul, If Sympathy Of Love Unite Our Thoughts.

Lawless Are They That Make Their Wills Their Law.