And I Would Hear Yet Once Before

Oh, Nature's Noblest Gift, My Grey Goose Quill, Slave Of My Thoughts, Obedient To My Will, Torn From The Parent Bird To Form A Pen, That Mighty Instrument Of Little Men.

Her Great Merit Is Finding Out Mine; There Is Nothing So Amiable As Discernment.

Think You, If Laura Had Been Petrarch's Wife, He Would Have Written Sonnets All His Life?.

Truth Is A Gem That Is Found At A Great Depth; Whilst On The Surface Of The World All Things Are Weighed By The False Scale Of Custom.

Of All The Horrid, Hideous Notes Of Woe, Sadder Than Owl-songs Or The Midnight Blast; Is That Portentous Phrase, "i Told You So.