The moon, like to a silver bow new bent in heaven.
I know a place where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows.
By heaven, I do love: and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to be mekancholy.
My lord, they say five moons were seen to-night-- Four fixed, and the fifth did whirl about The other four in wondrous motion.
Beauty lives with kindness.
No reckoning made, but sent to my account with all my imperfections on my head.