The Daintiest Last, To Make The End

Passion Lends Them Power, Time Means To Meet, Tempering Extremities With Extremes Sweet.

Tired With All These, For Restful Death I Cry.

While Thou Livest Keep A Good Tongue In Thy Head.

Thus Die I, Thus, Thus, Thus. Now Am I Dead, Now Am I Fled; My Soul Is In The Sky: Tongue, Lose Thy Light; Moon Take Thy Flight. Now Die, Die, Die, Die, Die.

I Can No Other Answer Make, But, Thanks, And Thanks.