You Are Made Rather To Wonder At

Let Us, Like Merchants, Show Our Foulest Wares, And Think Perchance They'll Sell; If Not, The Lustre Of The Better Yet To Show Shall Show The Better.

From You Have I Been Absent In The Spring, When Proud Pied April, Dressed In All His Trim, Hath Put A Spirit Of Youth In Every Thing.

Whats Here A Cup Closed In My True Loves Hand Poisin I See Hath Been His Timeless End. Oh Churl Drunk All And Left No Friendly Drop To Help Me After. I Will Kiss Thy Lips Some Poisin Doth Hang On Them, To Help Me Die With A Restorative. Thy Lips Are Warm. Yea Noise Then Ill Be Brief Oh Happy Dagger This Is Thy Sheath. There Rust And Let Me Die.

Eternity Was In Our Lips And Eyes, Bliss In Our Brows' Bent; None Our Parts So Poor But Was A Race Of Heaven.

We Must Every One Be A Man Of His Own Fancy.