One Short Sleep Past, We Wake Eternally,

Between Cowardice And Despair, Valour Is Gendred.

Licence My Roving Hands, And Let Them Go Before, Behind, Between, Above, Below.

When I Died Last, And, Dear, I Die As Often As From Thee I Go Though It Be But An Hour Ago, And Lovers' Hours Be Full Eternity.

Our Faults Are Not Seen, But Past Us; Neither Felt, But Only In The Punishment.

Christ Beats His Drum, But He Does Not Press Men; Christ Is Served With Voluntaries.