Nor Age So Eat Up My Invention.

When Sorrows Come, They Come Not Single Spies, But In Battalions.

...too Much Sadness Hath Congealed Your Blood,and Melancholy Is The Nurse Of Frenzy.

For Precious Friends Hid In Death's Dateless Night.

Love That Well Which Thou Must Leave Ere Long.

If I May Trust The Flattering Truth Of Sleep, My Dreams Presage Some Joyful News At Hand. My Bosom's Lord Sits Lightly In His Throne, And All This Day An Unaccustomed Spirit Lifts Me Above The Ground With Cheerful Thoughts.