That Field Hath Eyen, And The Wood

The Proverbe Saith That Many A Smale Maketh A Grate.

He Is Gentle That Doeth Gentle Deeds.

Min Be The Travaille, And Thin Be The Glorie.

But All Thing Which That Shineth As The Gold Ne Is No Gold, As I Have Herd It Told.

In April The Sweet Showers Fall And Pierce The Drought Of March To The Root, And All The Veins Are Bathed In Liquor Of Such Power As Brings About The Engendering Of The Flower.