My Dull Brain Was Wrought

Yon Grey Lines That Fret The Clouds Are Messengers Of Day.

So Full Of Artless Jealousy Is Guilt, It Spills Itself In Fearing To Be Spilt.

I Hourly Learn A Doctrine Of Obedience.

But Till All Graces Be In One Woman, One Woman Shall Not Come In My Grace. Rich She Shall Be, That's Certain; Wise, Or I'll None; Virtuous, Or I'll Never Cheapen Her; Fair, Or I'll Never Look On Her; Mild, Or Come Not Near Me; Noble, Or Not I For An Angel; Of Good Discourse, And Excellent Musician And Her Hair Shall Be Of What Colour It Shall Please God.

Experience Teacheth That Resolution Is A Sole Help In Need.