What Are You Doing Sister? / Killing

Wisdom Cries Out In The Streets, And No Man Regards It.

And How His Audit Stands Who Knows, Save Heaven?

O, But They Say, The Tongues Of Dying Men Enforce Attention, Like Deep Harmony: Where Words Are Scarce, They Are Seldom Spent In Vain: For They Breathe Truth, That Breathe Their Words In Pain. He, That No More Must Say, Is Listened More Than They Whom Youth And Ease Have Taught To Gloze; More Are Men's Ends Marked, Than Their Lives Before: The Setting Sun, And Music At The Close, As The Last Taste Of Sweets, Is Sweetest Last; Writ In Rememberance More Than Things Long Past

And Where Two Raging Fires Meet Together, They Do Consume The Thing That Feeds Their Fury.

The Glowworm Shows The Matin To Be Near And Gins To Pale His Uneffectual Fire.