Music's Golden Tongue Flatter'd To

Their Woes Gone By, And Both To Heaven Upflown, To Bow For Gratitude Before Jove's Throne.

Much Have I Traveled In The Realms Of Gold, And Many Goodly States And Kingdoms Seen.

I Would Jump Down Etna For Any Public Good - But I Hate A Mawkish Popularity.

The Redbreast Whistles From A Garden-croft; And Gathering Swallows Twitter In The Skies.

You Are Always New. The Last Of Your Kisses Was Even The Sweetest; The Last Smile The Brightest; The Last Movement The Gracefullest.