I Desire You In Friendship, And I

A Poor Thing, Perhaps, But My Own.

Eternity Was In Our Lips And Eyes, Bliss In Our Brows' Bent; None Our Parts So Poor But Was A Race Of Heaven.

Then Come Kiss Me, Sweet And Twenty.

Which Can Say More Than This Rich Praise, That You Alone Are You?

The Day Shall Not Be Up So Soon As I, To Try The Fair Adventure Of Tomorrow.