He Lives In Fame That Died In

Put Forth Thy Hand, Reach At The Glorious Gold.

You'd Be So Lean, That Blast Of January Would Blow You Through And Through. Now, My Fair'st Friend, I Would I Had Some Flowers O' The Spring That Might Become Your Time Of Day.

What E'er You Are That In This Desert Inaccessible, Under The Shade Of Melancholy Boughs, Lose And Neglect The Creeping Hours Of Time.

But The Strong Base And Building Of My Love Is As The Very Centre Of The Earth, Drawing All Things To It.

When Fortune Means To Men Most Good, She Looks Upon Them With A Threatening Eye.