'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

A man had given all other bliss, And all his worldly worth for this To waste his whole heart in one kiss Upon her perfect lips.

The mighty hopes that make us men.

There twice a day the Severn fills; The salt sea-water passes by, And hushes half the babbling Wye, And makes a silence in the hills.

I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley.

The splendour falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls.