Would I Were In An Alehouse In

Now 'tis Spring, And Weeds Are Shallow-rooted; Suffer Them Now And They'll O'ergrow The Garden.

We Make Guilty Of Our Disasters The Sun, The Moon, And The Stars; As If We Were Villians By Compulsion.

Beauty Provoketh Thieves Sooner Than Gold.

Let The End Try The Man.

To Die, Is To Be Banish'd From Myself; And Silvia Is Myself: Banish'd From Her, Is Self From Self: A Deadly Banishment! What Light Is Light, If Silvia Be Not Seen? What Joy Is Joy, If Silvia Be Not By? Unless It Be To Think That She Is By, And Feed Upon The Shadow Of Perfection. Except I Be By Silvia In The Night, There Is No Music In The Nightingale; Unless I Look On Silvia In The Day, There Is No Day For Me To Look Upon; She Is My Essence, And I Leave To Be, If I Be Not By Her Fair Influence Foster'd, Illumin'd, Cherish'd, Kept Alive.