They Lie Deadly That Tell You Have

For Thou Hast Given Me In This Beauteous Face A World Of Earthly Blessings To My Soul, If Sympathy Of Love Unite Our Thoughts.

Love Adds A Precious Seeing To The Eye.

I See You Stand Like Greyhounds In The Slips, Straining Upon The Start. The Game's Afoot; Follow Your Spirit: And Upon This Charge, Cry — God For Harry! England And Saint George!

Who Alone Suffers Suffers Most I' Th' Mind, Leaving Free Things And Happy Shows Behind; But Then The Mind Much Sufferance Doth O'erskip When Grief Hath Mates, And Bearing Fellowship.

He Is Winding The Watch Of His Wit; By And By It Will Strike.