| Quote | Poem |
| Find'st not thyself nor me the weaker now | |
| Thy beams so reverend, and strong | |
| O! Do not die, for I shall hate all women so, when thou art gone | |
| And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die | |
| Blasted with sighs, and surrounded with tears | |
| He is stark mad, whoever says, that he hath been in love an hour | |
| Batter my heart, three-person'd God | |
| Oh my America, my new found land | |
| Alas, alas, who's injured by my love? | |
| When by thy scorne, O murderess, I am dead | |