My soul I'll pour into thee.
What is a kiss? Why this, as some approve: the sure, sweet cement, glue, and lime of love.
When a daffadill I see, Hanging down his head towards me, Guess I may, what I must be: First, I shall decline my head; Secondly, I shall be dead: Lastly, safely buryed.
Love is a circle that doth restless move in the same sweet eternity of love.
It is the end that crowns us, not the fight.
In prayer the lips ne'er act the winning part, Without the sweet concurrence of the heart.