My Age I Will Not

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.

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

The Spring Is A Lively Emblem Of The Resurrection.

Sweet Words Are Like Honey, A Little May Refresh, But Too Much Gluts The Stomach.

I Am Obnoxious To Each Carping Tongue/ Who Says My Hand A Needle Better Fits./ A Poet's Pen All Scorn I Should Thus Wrong/ For Such Despite They Cast On Female Wits;/ If What I Do Prove Well, It Won't Advance,/ They'll Say It's Stolen, Or Else, It Was By Chance.