Why, Thou Owest God A Death.

What Ugly Sights Of Death Within Mine Eyes!

Are You Sure/that We Are Awake? It Seems To Me/that Yet We Sleep, We Dream

That Which I Would Discover The Law Of Friendship Bids Me To Conceal.

We Go To Gain A Little Patch Of Ground That Hath In It No Profit But The Name.

See How She Leans Her Cheek Upon Her Hand. O, That I Were A Glove Upon That Hand That I Might Touch That Cheek!