For In That Sleep Of

What Is Past Is Prologue.

Short Summers Lightly Have A Forward Spring.

And Be These Juggling Friends No More Believ'd, That Palter With Us In A Double Sense; That Keep The Word Of Promise To Our Ear And Break It To Our Hope.

On A Day - Alack The Day! - Love, Whose Month Is Ever May, Spied A Blossom Passing Fair Playing In The Wanton Air

Who Is It That Can Tell Me Who I Am?