When Heaven Doth Weep, Doth Not The

Join Not With Grief, Fair Woman, Do Not So, To Make My End Too Sudden.

He Is Not Worthy Of The Honey-comb, That Shuns The Hives Because The Bees Have Stings.

I Can No Longer Live By Thinking.

When Thou Cam'st First, Thou Strok'st Me And Made Much Of Me; Wouldst Give Me Water With Berries In't; And Teach Me How To Name The Bigger Light, And How The Less, That Burn By Day And Night; And Then I Loved Thee And Showed Thee All The Qualities O' Th' Isle, The Fresh Springs, Brine-pits, Barren Place And Fertile.

Your Hearts Are Mighty, Your Skins Are Whole.