But Man Grows Old, Lies

My Love Is Such That Rivers Cannot Quench, Nor Ought But Love From Thee, Give Recompence. Thy Love Is Such I Can No Way Repay, The Heavens Reward Thee Manifold I Pray.

Art Can Do Much, But This Maxim's Most Sure/a Weak Or Wounded Brain Admits No Cure.

Wisdom With An Inheritance Is Good, But Wisdom Without An Inheritance Is Better Than An Inheritance Without Wisdom.

I Prize Thy Love More Than Whole Mines Of Gold Or All The Riches That The East Doth Hold.

If What I Do Prove Well, It Won't Advance. They'll Say It's Stolen, Or Else It Was By Chance.