|
Chapter Five
No more be grieved atthat which thou hast done:
Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud:
Clouds and eclipses stain bot..
|
|
Chapter Six
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
So
do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each
changing plac..
|
|
Chapter
Seven
Not from the stars do I my judgement
pluck;
And yet methinks I have Astronomy,
But not to tell of good or evil lu..
|
7
next
last
|
|