Set Your Heart At Rest.

Or Are You Like The Painting Of A Sorrow, A Face Without A Heart?

How Far That Little Candle Throws Its Beams! So Shines A Good Deed In A Naughty World.

Women Speak Two Languages - One Of Which Is Verbal.

Free From Gross Passion Or Of Mirth Of Anger Constant Spirit, Not Swerving With The Blood, Garnish'd And Deck'd In Modest Compliment, Not Working With The Eye Without The Ear, And But In Purged Judgement Trusting Neither? Such And So Finely Bolted Didst Thou Seem.

O Thou That Dost Inhabit In My Breast, Leave Not The Mansion So Long Tenantless; Lest, Growing Ruinous, The Building Fall And Leave No Memory Of What It Was!