The Rain, It Raineth Every Day.

He That Will Have A Cake Out Of The Wheat Must Tarry The Grinding. Have I Not Tarried? Ay, The Grinding; But You Must Tarry The Bolting. Have I Not Tarried? Ay, The Bolting; But You Must Tarry The Leavening. Still Have I Tarried. Ay, To The Leavening; But Here's Yet In The Word 'hereafter' The Kneading, The Making Of The Cake, The Heating Of The Oven, And The Baking; Nay, You Must Stay The Cooling Too, Or You May Chance To Burn Your Lips.

Praising What Is Lost Makes The Remembrance Dear

Having Nothing, Nothing Can He Lose.

No, No, No, No! Come, Let's Away To Prison: We Two Alone Will Sing Like Birds I' The Cage: When Thou Dost Ask Me Blessing, I'll Kneel Down, And Ask Of Thee Forgiveness: So We'll Live, And Pray, And Sing, And Tell Old Tales, And Laugh At Gilded Butterflies, And Hear Poor Rogues Talk Of Court News; And We'll Talk With Them Too, Who Loses And Who Wins; Who's In, Who's Out; And Take Upon's The Mystery Of Things, As If We Were God's Spies: And We'll Wear Out, In A Wall'd Prison, Packs And Sects Of Great Ones, That Ebb And Flow By The Moon.

Truth Hath A Quiet Breast.