Book: Poems

• Sonnet VII: On His Being Arriv'd To The Age Of 23

  How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth,
  Stol'n on his wing my three-and-twentieth year!

  14 lines, 5 comments
• Sonnet XVIII: On The Late Massacre In Piemont

  Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughter'd saints, whose bones
  Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold,

  14 lines
• Sonnet XXII: To The Same. (Cyriac Skinner)

  Cyriac, this three years' day these eyes, though clear
      To outward view of blemish or of spot,

  14 lines

• By me, right now

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