So I find every pleasant spot In which we two were wont to meet, The field, the chamber, and the street, For all is dark where thou art not

Because right is right, to follow right Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence.

And oft I heard the tender dove In firry woodlands making moan.

So sad, so fresh the days that are no more.

How many a father have I seen, A sober man, among his boys, Whose youth was full of foolish noise.

Nor is he the wisest man who never proved himself a fool.

Men at most differ as Heaven and Earth, but women, worst and best, as Heaven and Hell.