Coop: O lift me from the grass, I fail, I die, but thy loved kisses rain on my lips.
Phoebe: What are you doing?
Coop: I'm just reciting what Michael wrote. He left this for you at the door.
Piper: Yeah, never mind that, we...
(Phoebe waves her off, reads from the card)
Phoebe: My heart beats loud and fast, O press it to thine own again where it shall break at last. Michael didn't write this.
Coop: What...Yeah, you're right. I wrote it down, a couple hundred years ago or so. Some of my best work.