Assuredly We Bring Not Innocence

Part Of My Soul I Seek Thee, And Claim Thee My Other Half

I Cannot Praise A Fugitive And Cloistered Virtue, Unexercised And Unbreathed, That Never Sallies Out And Sees Her Adversary, But Slinks Out Of The Race Where That Immortal Garland Is To Be Run For, Not Without Dust And Heat.

So Glistered The Dire Snake , And Into Fraud Led Eve, Our Credulous Mother, To The Tree Of Prohibition, Root Of All Our Woe.

The Timely Dew Of Sleep.

Heaven Is As The Book Of God Before Thee Set, Wherein To Read His Wondrous Works.