The World Is A Great Volume, And

Sleep Is Pain's Easiest Salve

Between Cowardice And Despair, Valour Is Gendred.

At The Round Earth's Imagined Corners, Blow Your Trumpets, Angels.

All Kings, And All Their Favorites, All Glory Of Honors, Beauties, Wits, The Sun Itself, Which Makes Times, As They Pass, Is Elder By A Year, Now, Than It Was When Thou And I First One Another Saw: All Other Things, To Their Destruction Draw, Only Our Love Hath No Decay; This, No Tomorrow Hash, Nor Yesterday, Running, It Never Runs From Us Away, But Truly Keeps His First, Last, Everlasting Day.

What If This Present Were The World's Last Night?