Unhappy That I Am, I

Yon Grey Lines That Fret The Clouds Are Messengers Of Day.

If The Boy Have Not A Woman's Gift To Rain A Shower Of Commanded Tears, An Onion Will Do Well For Such A Shift.

Good Lord, For Alliance! Thus Goes Every One To The World But I, And I Am Sunburnt; I May Sit In A Corner And Cry Heigh-ho For A Husband!

What Many Men Desire--that 'many' May Be Meant By The Fool Multitude That Choose By Show, Not Learning More Than The Fond Eye Doth Teach, Which Pries Not To Th' Interior, But Like The Martlet Builds In The Weather On The Outward Wall, Even In The Force And Road Of Casualty.

But Love, First Learned In A Lady's Eyes, Lives Not Alone Immured In The Brain; But, With The Motion Of All Elements, Courses As Swift As Thought In Every Power, And Gives To Every Power A Double Power, Above Their Functions And Their Offices.