Myself Will Straight Aboard, And To The

These Blessed Candles Of The Night.

How Well He's Read, To Reason Against Reading!

What Is Thy Sentence Then But Speechless Death.

I Wish You Well And So I Take My Leave, I Pray You Know Me When We Meet Again.

Love, Whose Month Is Ever May, Spied A Blossom Passing Fair, Playing In The Wanton Air: Through The Velvet Leaves The Wind, All Unseen Can Passage Find; That The Lover, Sick To Death, Wish'd Himself The Heaven's Breath.