I Throw Myself Down In

Death, Thou Shalt Die.

For Love All Love Of Other Sights Controls And Makes One Little Room An Everywhere

One Short Sleep Past, We Wake Eternally, And Death Shall Be No More; Death, Thou Shalt Die.

All Kings, And All Their Favorites, All Glory Of Honors, Beauties, Wits, The Sun Itself, Which Makes Times, As They Pass, Is Elder By A Year, Now, Than It Was When Thou And I First One Another Saw: All Other Things, To Their Destruction Draw, Only Our Love Hath No Decay; This, No Tomorrow Hash, Nor Yesterday, Running, It Never Runs From Us Away, But Truly Keeps His First, Last, Everlasting Day.

I Am A Little World Made Cunningly.