You Undergo Too Strict A

Lovers Ever Run Before The Clock

Have I Thought Long To See This Morning’s Face, And Doth It Give Me Such A Sight As This?

Th Abuse Of Greatness Is When It Disjoins Remorse From Power.

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

For Grief Is Crowned With Consolation.