He's All My Exercise, My Mirth, My

The Earth, That Is Nature's Mother, Is Her Tomb.

She Moves Me Not, Or Not Removes At Least Affection's Edge In Me.

If She Be Fair And Wise, Fairness And Wit, The One's For Use, The Other Useth It.

What Ugly Sights Of Death Within Mine Eyes!

Thank Me No Thankings, Nor Proud Me No Prouds.