Either sex alone is half itself.

An English homegrey twilight poured On dewy pasture, dewy trees, Softer than sleepall things in order stored, A haunt of ancient Peace.

Some full-breasted swan That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood With swarthy webs.

The Gods themselves cannot recall their gifts.

Courtesy wins woman all as well. As valor may, but he that closes both is perfect.

Oh good gray head which all men knew!

The bearing and the training of a child Is woman's wisdom.