Thou Art A Castilian King Urinal!

O' What May Man Within Him Hide, Though Angel On The Outward Side!

A Man Cannot Make Him Laugh - But That's No Marvel; He Drinks No Wine.

Direct Not Him Whose Way Himself Will Choose; 'tis Breath Not Lack'st, And That Breath Wilt Thou Lose.

Love, Whose Month Is Ever May, Spied A Blossom Passing Fair, Playing In The Wanton Air: Through The Velvet Leaves The Wind, All Unseen Can Passage Find; That The Lover, Sick To Death, Wish'd Himself The Heaven's Breath.

But Love, First Learned In A Lady's Eyes, Lives Not Alone Immured In The Brain; But, With The Motion Of All Elements, Courses As Swift As Thought In Every Power, And Gives To Every Power A Double Power, Above Their Functions And Their Offices.