So Are You To My Thoughts As

At Christmas, I No More Desire A Rose.

If By Chance I Talk A Little Wild, Forgive Me; I Had It From My Father.

O Me, You Juggler, You Canker-blossom, You Thief Of Love!

Love's Best Habit Is A Soothing Tongue

After Life's Fitful Fever He Sleeps Well. Treason Has Done His Worst. Nor Steel Nor Poison, Malice Domestic, Foreign Levy, Nothing Can Touch Him Further.