And When I Am Forgotten, As I

I Have Nothing Of Woman In Me; Now From Head To Foot I Am Marble-constant.

Never Durst Poet Touch A Pen To Write Until His Ink Were Temper'd With Love's Sighs.

...an Old Man Is Twice A Child.

The Cunning Livery Of Hell.

Therefore The Moon, The Governess Of Floods, Pale In Her Anger Washes All The Air, That Rheumatic Diseases Do Abound; And Through This Distemperature We See The Seasons Alter: Hoary-headed Frosts Fall In The Fresh Lap Of The Crimson Rose.