Send Danger From The East Unto The

For Precious Friends Hid In Death's Dateless Night.

He Must Needs Go That The Devil Drives.

The Seasons Alter: Hoary-headed Frosts Fall In The Fresh Lap Of The Crimson Rose.

And Thus I Clothe My Naked Villainy With Odd Old Ends Stol'n Out Of Holy Writ; And Seem A Saint, When Most I Play The Devil.

Tired With All These, For Restful Death I Cry.