The Gods Are Deaf To Hot And

Love Sees With The Heart And Not With Mind.

I Thought My Heart Had Been Wounded With The Claws Of A Lion.

Short Summers Lightly Have A Forward Spring.

O, Grief Hath Changed Me Since You Saw Me Last, And Careful Hours With Time's Deformed Hand Have Written Strange Defeatures In My Face. But Tell Me Yet, Dost Thou Not Know My Voice?

Ill Deeds Are Doubled With An Evil Word.