Smooth Runs The Water Where

I Can Again Thy Former Light Restore, Should I Repent Me: But Once Put Out Thy Light, Thou Cunning'st Pattern Of Excelling Nature, I Know Not Where Is That Promethean Heat That Can Thy Light Relume.

Stars, Hide Your Fires; Let Not Light See My Black And Deep Desires.

In Struggling With Misfortunes Lies The True Proof Of Virtue.

Earth-treading Stars That Make Dark Heaven Light

And Mind, With My Heart In't; And Now Farewell Till Half An Hour Hence.