I Shall Not Live 'till

Nature's Lay Idiot, I Taught Thee To Love.

The Psalms Foretell What I, What Any Shall Do And Suffer And Say.

For Love All Love Of Other Sights Controls And Makes One Little Room An Everywhere

Great Sorrows Cannot Speak.

Yet Nothing Can To Nothing Fall, Nor Any Place Be Empty Quite; Therefore I Think My Breast Hath All Those Pieces Still, Though They Be Not Unite; And Now, As Broken Glasses Show A Hundred Lesser Faces, So My Rags Of Heart Can Like, Wish, And Adore, But After One Such Love, Can Love No More.