No, Time, Thou Shalt Not

Would The Cook Were O' My Mind!

I Dreamt My Lady Came And Found Me Dead . . . . . . . . . . . . And Breathed Such Life With Kisses In My Lips That I Revived And Was An Emperor.

Where Souls Do Couch On Flowers We'll Hand In Hand.

For Such Things As You, I Can Scarce Think There's Any, Ye're So Slight.

Tired With All These, For Restful Death I Cry.