But wherefore could not I pronounce 'Amen'? I had most need of blessing, and 'Amen' Stuck in my throat.
How now, wit! Whither wander you?
Is she kind as she is fair?
My nature is subdued to what it works in, like the dyer's hand.
Nor shall this peace sleep with her; but as when The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix, Her ashes new-create another heir As great in admiration as herself.
All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.