The Soul Of Man Is

A Lily Of A Day Is Fairer Far In May, Although It Fall And Die That Night, It Was The Plant And Flower Of Light. In Small Proportions We Just Beauties See, And In Short Measures Life May Perfect Be.

I Now Think, Love Is Rather Deaf, Than Blind, For Else It Could Not Be, That She, Whom I Adore So Much, Should So Slight Me, And Cast My Love Behind.

I Glory, More In The Cunning Purchase Of My Wealth Than In The Glad Possession.

It Strikes! One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six. Enough, Enough, Dear Watch, Thy Pulse Hath Beat Enough. Now Sleep And Rest; Would Thou Could'st Make The Time To Do So Too; I'll Wind Thee Up No More.

Of All Wild Beasts Preserve Me From A Tyrant; And Of All Tame A Flatterer.