Youth To Itself Rebels, Though None Else

Love Yourself; And In That Love Not Unconsidered Leave Your Honor.

Grief Fills The Room Up Of My Absent Child, Lies In His Bed, Walks Up And Down With Me, Puts On His Pretty Look, Repeats His Words, Remembers Me Of His Gracious Parts, Stuffs Out His Vacant Garments With His Form

Their Manners Are More Gentle, Kind, Than Of Our Human Generation You Shall Find.

How Hard It Is For Women To Keep Counsel!

To Die: - To Sleep: No More; And, By A Sleep To Say We End The Heart-ache And The Thousand Natural Shocks That Flesh Is Heir To, 'tis A Consummation Devoutly To Be Wished.