Words, Words, Mere Words, No Matter From

Your Gentleness Shall Force More Than Your Force Move Us To Gentleness.

I Can Call Spirits From The Vasty Deep.

What Freezings I Have Felt, What Dark Days Seen, What Old December's Bareness Everywhere!

She Speaks Poniards, And Every Word Stabs: If Her Breath Were As Terrible As Her Terminations, There Were No Living Near Her; She Would Infect To The North Star. I Would Not Marry Her, Though She Were Endowed With All That Adam Bad Left Him Before He Transgressed.

What Power Is It Which Mounts My Love So High, That Makes Me See, And Cannot Feed Mine Eye