A Love Grown Old Is Not The

For I Have Seyn Of A Ful Misty Morwe Folowen Ful Ofte A Myrie Someris Day.

For Thogh We Slepe, Or Wake, Or Rome, Or Ryde, Ay Fleeth The Tyme; It Nyl No Man Abyde.

I Gave My Whole Heart Up, For Him To Hold.

And So It Is In Politics, Dear Brother, Each For Himself Alone, There Is No Other.

One Flesh They Are; And One Flesh, So I'd Guess, Has But One Heart, Come Grief Or Happiness.