Any Man's Death Diminishes Me, Because I

How Much Shall I Be Changed, Before I Am Changed!

Nature Hath No Goal Though She Hath Law.

I Sing The Progress Of A Deathless Soul.

I Will Not Look Upon The Quickening Sun, But Straight Her Beauty To My Sense Shall Run; The Air Shall Note Her Soft, The Fire Most Pure; Water Suggest Her Clear, And The Earth Sure; Time Shall Not Lose Our Passages.

Poor Heretics There Be,which Think To Establish Dangerous Constancy,but I Have Told Them, ‘since You Will Be True,you Shall Be True To Them, Who Are False To You.