O, What A World Of Vile Ill-favored

The Sudden Hand Of Death Close Up Mine Eye!

When Thou Cam'st First, Thou Strok'st Me And Made Much Of Me; Wouldst Give Me Water With Berries In't; And Teach Me How To Name The Bigger Light, And How The Less, That Burn By Day And Night; And Then I Loved Thee And Showed Thee All The Qualities O' Th' Isle, The Fresh Springs, Brine-pits, Barren Place And Fertile.

How Poor Are They That Have Have Not Patients.

What Is Light, If Sylvia Be Not Seen? What Is Joy If Sylvia Be Not By?

Every Thing That Grows / Holds In Perfection But A Little Moment.