So Many Hours Must I Take My

Time Hath, My Lord, A Wallet At His Back Wherein He Puts Alms For Oblivion, A Great-sized Monster Of Ingratitudes: Those Scraps Are Good Deeds Past, Which Are Devour'd As Fast As They Are Made, Forgot As Soon As Done.

My Love To Thee Is Sound, Sans Crack Or Flaw.

Thou Art A Castilian King Urinal!

Remember Thee! Ay, Thou Poor Ghost, While Memory Holds A Seat In This Distracted Globe.

Some There Be That Shadows Kiss; Such Have But A Shadow's Bliss.