After So Many Deaths I

The Morning Sunne Never Lasts A Day.

Who Must Account For Himselfe And Others, Must Know Both.

Listen, Sweet Dove, Unto My Song, And Spread Thy Golden Wings In Me; Hatching My Tender Heart So Long, Till It Get Wing, And Flie Away With Thee.

If Fooles Should Not Foole It, They Shall Lose Their Season.

Into A Mouth Shut Flies Flie Not.