Give Every Man Thy Ear, But Few

O No, Thy Love Though Much, Is Not So Great, It Is My Love That Keeps Mine Eye Awake, Mine Own True Love That Doth My Rest Defeat, To Play The Watchman Ever For Thy Sake. For Thee Watch I, Whilst Thou Dost Wake Elsewhere, From Me Far Off, With Others All Too Near.

The Patient Must Minister To Himself

Lord Bacon Told Sir Edward Coke When He Was Boasting, The Less You Speak Of Your Greatness, The More Shall I Think Of It.

Who Are The Violets Now That Strew The Lap Of The New-come Spring?

Then Will I Raise Aloft The Milk-white Rose. For Whose Sweet Smell The Air Shall Be Perfumed.