With Mirth In Funeral And

Aand In The End, Having My Freedom, Boast Of Nothing Else But That I Was A Journeyman To Grief?

If I Must Die, I Will Encounter Darkness As A Bride, And Hug It In Mine Arms.

Ay; Beauty's Princely Majesty Is Such, Confounds The Tongue And Makes The Senses Rough.

And All This Day An Unaccustomed Spirit Lifts Me Above The Ground With Cheerful Thoughts.

My Friends Were Poor, But Honest, So's My Love.