The World Is Not Thy

Why Then, O Brawling Love! O Loving Hate! O Any Thing, Of Nothing First Create! O Heavy Lightness, Serious Vanity, Misshapen Chaos Of Well-seeming Forms, Feather Of Lead, Bright Smoke, Cold Fire, Sick Health, Still-waking Sleep, That Is Not What It Is! This Love Feel I, That Feel No Love In This.

Flower Of This Purple Dye, Hit With Cupid's Archery, Sink In Apple Of His Eye.

No Stony Bulwark Can Resist The Love, And Love Dares What Anyone Can Love.

Blood Will Have Blood.

Thy Friendship Makes Us Fresh.