He That Hath Light Within Their Own

Who, As They Sung, Would Take The Prison'd Soul And Lap It In Elysium.

All Hope Is Lost Of My Reception Into Grace; What Worse? For Where No Hope Is Left, Is Left No Fear.

O Fairest Flower! No Sooner Blown But Blasted, Soft Silken Primrose Fading Timelessly.

Danger Will Wink On Opportunity.

He That Hath Light Within Their Own Breast, May Sit In The Centre And Enjoy Bright Day.