Lovers lying two and two Ask not whom they sleep beside, And the bridegroom all night through Never turns him to the bride.

Into my hear an air that kills through yon far country blows what are those blue remembered hills what spires,what farms are those? that is the land of lost content I can see it shining plain the happy highways where I went and cannot come again.

His folly has not fellow Beneath the blue of day That gives to man or woman His heart and soul away.

Stars, I have seen them fall, But when they drop and die No star is lost at all From all the star-sown sky. The toil of all that be Helps not the primal fault; It rains into the sea And still the sea is salt.

Do not ever read books about versification: no poet ever learnt it that way. If you are going to be a poet, it will come to you naturally and you will pick up all you need from reading poetry.

That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, the happy highways where I went and cannot come again.

In every American there is an air of incorrigible innocence, which seems to conceal a diabolical cunning.