Travelers Never Did Lie, Though

All Furnished, All In Arms; All Plum'd Like Estridges That With The Wind Bated Like Eagles Having Lately Bathed; Glittering In Golden Coats Like Images; As Full Of Spirit As The Month Of May And Gorgeous As The Sun At Midsummer; Wanton As Youthful Goats, Wild As Young Bulls.

Thus Is His Cheek The Map Of Days Outworn.

Affection Faints Not Like A Pale-faced Coward, But Then Woos Best When Most His Choice Is Froward.

You Will Never Age For Me, Nor Fade, Nor Die.

Cease Thy Counsel, For Thy Words Fall Into My Ears As Priceless As Water Into A Seive.