We Waste Our Lights In Vain, Like

Never Durst Poet Touch A Pen To Write Until His Ink Were Temper'd With Love's Sighs.

One Fairer Than My Love? The All-seeing Sun Ne'er Saw Her Match Since First The World Begun.

It Comes To Pass Oft That A Terrible Oath, With A Swaggering Accent Sharply Twanged Off, Gives Manhood More Approbation Than Ever Proof Itself Would Have Earned Him.

If Is A Custom, More Honor'd In The Breach Than The Observance.

To Be In Love- Where Scorn Is Bought With Groans, Coy Looks With Heart-sore Sighs, One Fading Moment's Mirth With Twenty Watchful, Weary, Tedious Nights; If Haply Won, Perhaps A Hapless Gain; If Lost, Why Then A Grievous Labour Won; However, But A Folly Bought With Wit, Or Else A Wit By Folly Vanquished.