Take Heede Of The Viniger Of Sweet

Listen, Sweet Dove, Unto My Song, And Spread Thy Golden Wings In Me; Hatching My Tender Heart So Long, Till It Get Wing, And Flie Away With Thee.

Love Bade Me Welcome, But My Soul Drew Back.

That Flesh Is But The Glasse, Which Holds The Dust That Measures All Our Time; Which Also Shall Be Crumbled Into Dust.

True Praise Rootes And Spreedes.

The House Shewes The Owner.