Every offense is not a hate at first.

Scorn, at first, makes after-love the more.

But she makes hungry Where she most satisfies.

Ay, but to die, and go we know not where.

You have too much respect upon the world; They lose it that do buy it with much care

This thing of darkness I Acknowledge mine.

I know a place where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows.