So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground.
Love, which teacheth me that thou and I am one
Oh, God! I have an ill-divining soul!
You abilities are too infant-like for doing much alone.
To saucy doubts and fears.
O comfort-killing night, image of hell, Dim register and notary of shame, Black stage for tragedies and murders fell, Vast sin-concealing chaos, nurse of blame!