Now, Neighbor Confines, Purge You Of Your

Would The Cook Were O' My Mind!

I Sat Upon A Promontory, And Heard A Mermaid, On A Dolphin's Back, Uttering Such Dulcet And Harmonious Breath, That The Rude Sea Grew Civil At Her Song; And Certain Stars Shot Madly From Their Spheres, To Hear The Sea-maid's Music.

The Rest, Is Silence.

My Nature Is Subdued To What It Works In, Like The Dyer's Hand.

My Crown Is Called Content, A Crown That Seldom Kings Enjoy.