These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends.

And All My Mother Came Into Mine Eyes And Gave Me Up To Tears.

Set Your Heart At Rest. The Fairyland Buys Not The Child Of Me.

The Wound Of Peace Is Surety, Surety Secure; But Modest Doubt Is Called The Beacon Of The Wise, The Tent That Searches To Th' Bottom Of The Worst.

Free From Gross Passion Or Of Mirth Of Anger Constant Spirit, Not Swerving With The Blood, Garnish'd And Deck'd In Modest Compliment, Not Working With The Eye Without The Ear, And But In Purged Judgement Trusting Neither? Such And So Finely Bolted Didst Thou Seem.

Dreams Are The Children Of Idled Minds.