This Thou Perceivest, Which Makes Thy Love

Ere I Could Make Thee Open Thy White Hand, And Clap Thyself My Love; Then Didst Thou Utter, I Am Your's For Ever!

Give Obedience Where 'tis Truly Owed.

Pray, Do Not Mock Me. I Am A Very Foolish Fond Old Man, Fourscore And Upward, Not An Hour More Nor Less; And, To Deal Plainly, I Fear I Am Not In My Perfect Mind.

Winter's Not Gone Yet, If The Wild Geese Fly That Way.

How Hard It Is To Hide The Sparks Of Nature!