What Is Light, If Sylvia

Robust Grass Endures Mighty Winds; Loyal Ministers Emerge Through Ordeal.

If There Were Reason For These Miseries, Then Into Limits Could I Bind My Woes. If The Winds Rages, Doth Not The Sea Wax Mad, Threat'ning The Welkin With Its Big-swoll'n Face? And Wilt Though Have A Reason For This Coil? I Am The Sea. Hark How Her Sighs Doth Blow. She Is The Weeping Welkin, I The Earth.

Pray, Love, Remember: And There Is Pansies, That's For Thoughts.

Men So Noble, However Faulty, Yet Should Find Respect For What They Have Been: 'tis A Cruelty To Load A Falling Man.

Death-counterfeiting Sleep.