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

Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Life is brief but love is LONG .

I do but sing because I must; and pipe but as the linnets sing.

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

If I had a flower for every time I thought of you...I could walk through my garden forever.

To love one maiden only, cleave to her, And worship her by years of noble deeds, Until they won her; for indeed I knew Of no more subtle master under heaven Than is the maiden passion for a maid, Not only to keep down the base in man, But teach high thought, and aimable words And courtliness, and the desire of fame, And love of truth, and all that makes man.