“Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,The bridal of the earth and sky;The dew shall weep thy fall tonight,For thou must die.”

“Have I no harvest but a thorn   To let me bloud, and not restoreWhat I have lost with cordiall fruit? Sure there was wine   Before my sighs did drie it: there was corn   Before my tears did drown it.   Is the yeare onely lost to me?   Have I no bayes to crown it?No flowers, no garlands gay? all blasted? All wasted?   Not so, my heart: but there is fruit, And thou hast hands.   Recover all thy sigh-blown ageOn double pleasures: leave thy cold disputeOf what is fit, and not. Forsake thy cage, Thy rope of sands,Which pettie thoughts have made, and made to thee   Good cable, to enforce and draw, And be thy law,   While thou didst wink and wouldst not see.”

“Wouldst thou both eat thy cake and have it?”

“Be calm in arguing: for fierceness makes Error a fault, and truth discourtesy.”

“Full moon calls thee-- Shai-hulud shall thou see; Red the night, dusky sky, Bloody death didst thou die. We pray to a moon: she is round-- Luck with us will then abound, What we seek for shall be found In the land of solid ground.”

“But I am lost in flesh, whose sugared lies,Still mock me and grow bold:Sure thou didst put a mind there, if I couldFind where it lies.”

“For, if I imp my wing on thine,Affliction shall advance the flight in me.”