Like As The Waves Make Towards The

Neither A Borrower Nor A Lender Be.

And Teach Me How To Name The Bigger Light, And How The Less, That Burn By Day And Night.

My Love Is As A Fever, Longing Still.

How Sweet The Moonlight Sleeps Upon This Bank! Here Will We Sit, And Let The Sounds Of Music Creep In Our Ears; Soft Stillness And The Night Become The Touches Of Sweet Harmony. Sit, Jessica: Look, How The Floor Of Heaven Is Thick Inlaid With Patines Of Bright Gold; There's Not The Smallest Orb Which Thou Behold'st But In His Motion Like An Angel Sings, Still Quiring To The Young-eyed Cherubins. Such Harmony Is In Immortal Souls; But Whilst This Muddy Vesture Of Decay Doth Grossly Close It In, We Cannot Hear It.

Let's Teach Ourselves That Honorable Stop, Not To Outsport Discretion.