It Is A Sin To

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

He That Dies This Year Is Quit For The Next.

Angels Are Bright Still, Though The Brightest Fell.

Two Women Placed Together Makes Cold Weather.

Thou Ever Young, Fresh, Lov'd, And Delicate Wooer, Whose Blush Doth Thaw The Consecrated Snow