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We start from the Mother's Arms and we run to the Dustshovel.
We start from the Mother's Arms and we run to the Dustshovel.
Yet gold all is not that doth golden seem.
Yet gold all is not that doth golden seem.
A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays,
And confident to-morrows.
A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays,
And confident to-morrows.
Who remove stones, bruise their fingers.
Who remove stones, bruise their fingers.
If you are dreaded by many then beware of many.
If you are dreaded by many then beware of many.
Who like sour fruit to stir their veins' salt tides.
Who like sour fruit to stir their veins' salt tides.
How much in love with himself, and that too without a rival!
How much in love with himself, and that too without a rival!
