Welcome, Maids Of Honor, You Doe Bring

When The Artless Doctor Sees No One Hope, But Of His Fees, And His Skill Runs On The Lees; Sweet Spirit, Comfort Me! When His Potion And His Pill, Has, Or None, Or Little Skill, Meet For Nothing, But To Kill; Sweet Spirit, Comfort Me!

What Is A Kiss? Why This, As Some Approve: The Sure, Sweet Cement, Glue, And Lime Of Love.

Roses At First Were White, Till Thy Co'd Not Agree, Whether My Sapho's Breast, Or They More White Sho'd Be.

Next, When I Cast Mine Eyes And See That Brave Vibration Each Way Free, O How That Glittering Taketh Me!

I Do Love I Know Not What; Sometimes This, And Sometimes That.