So Quick Bright Things Come To Confusion.​​​​​​

Pause Awhile, And Let My Counsel Sway You.

The Stroke Of Death Is As A Lover's Pinch, Which Hurts And Is Desired.

As Soon Go Kindle Fire With Snow, As Seek To Quench The Fire Of Love With Words.

Thy Words, I Grant Are Bigger, For I Wear Not, My Dagger In My Mouth.

When Daisies Pied And Violets Blue And Lady-smocks All Silver-white And Cuckoo-buds Of Yellow Hue Do Paint The Meadows With Delight, The Cuckoo Then, On Every Tree, Mocks Married Men; For Thus Sings He, Cuckoo; Cuckoo, Cuckoo; O, Word Of Fear, Unpleasing To A Married Ear.