My Crown Is In My Heart, Not

Princes Have But Their Titles For Their Glories, An Outward Honor For An Inward Toil; And, For Unfelt Imaginations, They Often Feel A World Of Restless Cares.

No Stony Bulwark Can Resist The Love, And Love Dares What Anyone Can Love.

That Is The Way To Lay The City Flat, To Bring The Roof To The Foundation, And Bury All, Which Yet Distinctly Ranges, In Heaps And Piles Of Ruin.

Who Buys A Minute's Mirth To Wail A Week? Or Sell Eternity To Get A Toy? For One Grape Who Will The Vine Destroy?

O, How I Faint When I Of You Do Write, Knowing A Better Spirit Doth Use Your Name, And In The Praise Thereof Spends All His Might To Make Me Tongue-tied Speaking Of Your Fame.