Do Not Speak Like A Death's-head, Do

God Has Given You One Face, And You Make Yourself Another.

All His Successors Gone Before Him Have Done 't; And All His Ancestors That Come After Him May.

Put Forth Thy Hand, Reach At The Glorious Gold.

And All My Mother Came Into Mine Eyes And Gave Me Up To Tears.

She Moves Me Not, Or Not Removes At Least Affection's Edge In Me.