In Love There Is But

If Love Be Good, From Whence Cometh My Woe?

He Who Accepts His Poverty Unhurt I'd Say Is Rich Although He Lacked A Shirt. But Truly Poor Are They Who Whine And Fret And Covet What They Cannot Hope To Get.

Fo Lo, The Gentil Kind Of The Lioun! For When A Flye Offendeth Him Or Byteth, He With His Tayl Awey The Flye Smyteth Al Esily, For, Of His Genterye, Him Deyneth Net To Wreke Him On A Flye, As Cloth A Curre Or Elles Another Beste.

For Out Of Old Fields, As Men Saith, Cometh All This New Corn From Year To Year; And Out Of Old Books, In Good Faith, Cometh All This New Science That Men Learn.

For Thogh We Slepe, Or Wake, Or Rome, Or Ryde, Ay Fleeth The Tyme; It Nyl No Man Abyde.