Tis Not A Year Or Two Shows

To Me, Fair Friend, You Never Can Be Old, For As You Were When First Your Eye I Ey'd, Such Seems Your Beauty Still.

To Die: - To Sleep: No More; And, By A Sleep To Say We End The Heart-ache And The Thousand Natural Shocks That Flesh Is Heir To, 'tis A Consummation Devoutly To Be Wished.

He Wears His Faith But As The Fashion Of His Hat.

Have More Than You Show, Speak Less Than You Know.

With Love's Light Wings Did I O'er-perch These Walls, For Stony Limits Cannot Hold Love Out