Happy days roll onward leading up to golden years.

The golden guess is morning-star to the full round of truth.

Our little systems have their day; They have their day and cease to be… And thou, O Lord, art more than they.

A pasty costly-made, Where quail and pigeon, lark and leveret lay, Like fossils of the rock, with golden yolks Imbedded and injellied.

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.

God and Nature met in light.

The mirror crack'd from side to side "The curse has come upon me," cried The Lady of Shalott