What Are You Doing Sister?

What Made Me Love Thee? Let That Persuade Thee, There's Something Extraordinary In Thee

The Poet's Eye, In A Fine Frenzy Rolling, Doth Glance From Heaven To Earth, From Earth To Heaven; And As Imagination Bodies Forth The Forms Of Things Unknown, The Poet's Pen Turns Them To Shape, And Gives To Airy Nothing A Local Habitation And A Name; Such Tricks Hath Strong Imagination.

And Therefore Is Love Said To Be A Child, Because In Choice He Is So Oft Beguil'd

Promising Is The Very Air O' The Time; It Opens The Eyes Of Expectation.

You Wear Out A Good Wholesome Forenoon In Hearing A Cause Between An Orange Wife And A Fosset-seller.