Women May Fail When There

You Are Yoked With A Lamb, That Carries Anger As The Flint Bears Fire; Who, Much Enforced, Shows A Hasty Spank, And Straight Is Cold Again.

Music, Moody Food Of Us That Trade In Love.

Courage And Comfort, All Shall Yet Go Well

Poor And Content, Is Rich And Rich Enough; But Riches, Fineless, Is As Poor As Winter, To Him That Ever Fears He Shall Be Poor.

What, All So Soon Asleep! I Wish Mine Eyes Would, With Themselves, Shut Up My Thoughts.