The Worm Is Not To

Good Morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's Day, All In The Morn Betime, And I A Maid At Your Window, To Be Your Valentine.

Spirits Are Not Finely Touched But To Fine Issues.

Care I For The Limb, The Thews, The Stature, Bulk, And Big Assemblance Of A Man! Give Me The Spirit.

Care Keeps His Watch In Every Old Man’s Eye, And Where Care Lodges, Sleep Will Never Lie.

Then Was I As A Tree Whose Boughs Did Bend With Fruit; But In One Night, A Storm Or Robbery, Call It What You Will, Shook Down My Mellow Hangings, Nay, My Leaves, And Left Me Bare To Weather.