A Robin Redbreast In A Cage Puts

Bring Me An Axe And Spade, Bring Me A Winding-sheet; When I My Grave Have Made Let Winds And Tempests Beat: Then Down I'll Lie As Cold As Clay. True Love Doth Pass Away!

Some Are Born To Sweet Delight, Some Are Born To Endless Night.

Like A Fiend In A Cloud, With Howling Woe, After Night I Do Crowd, And With Night Will Go; I Turn My Back To The East, From Whence Comforts Have Increased; For Light Doth Seize My Brain With Frantic Pain.

For Everything That Lives Is Holy, Life Delights In Life.

The Stars Are Threshed, And The Souls Are Threshed From Their Husks.