Instead of weeping when a tragedy occurs in a songbird's life, it sings away its grief. I believe we could well follow the pattern of our feathered friends.

I have lov'd her ever since I saw her; and still I see her beautiful

Night's candles have burned out, and jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountaintops." Hope tinged with melancholy - like life.

O that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth! Then with passion would I shake the world.

Pray you now, forget and forgive.

Time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let Time try.

I'll give my jewels for a set of beads, My gorgeous palace for a hermitage, My gay apparel for an almsman's gown, My figured goblets for a dish of wood, My scepter for a palmer's walking staff My subjects for a pair of carved saints and my large kingdom for a little grave.