When We Are Born We Cry That

Oh, Injurious Love, That Respites Me A Life, Whose Very Comfort Is Still A Dying Horror

Sorrow Breaks Seasons And Reposing Hours, Makes The Night Morning, And The Noontide Night.

Awake, Dear Heart, Awake. Thou Hast Slept Well. Awake.

I See A Woman May Be Made A Fool, If She Had Not A Spirit To Resist.

I Bear A Charmed Life.