I am ashes where once I was fire.
The busy have no time for tears.
Next to dressing for a rout or ball, undressing is a woe.
All Heaven and Earth are still, though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most.
Our life is two fold Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence Sleep hath its own world, And a wide realm of wild reality.
Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded. That all the Apostles would have done as they did.