For Tyme Ylost May Nought

Love Will Not Be Constrain'd By Mastery. When Mast'ry Comes, The God Of Love Anon Beateth His Wings, And, Farewell, He Is Gone. Love Is A Thing As Any Spirit Free.

Take A Cat, Nourish It Well With Milk And Tender Meat, Make It A Couch Of Silk.

But Christ's Lore And His Apostles Twelve, He Taught And First He Followed It Himself.

All Good Things Must Come To An End.

Yet In Our Ashen Cold Is Fire Yreken.