A truth looks freshest in the fashions of the day.
Sweet is true love, though given in vain.
Launch your vessel, And crowd your canvas, And, ere it vanishes Over the margin, After it, follow it, FollowThe Gleam.
The song that nerves a nation's heart is in itself a deed.
Some full-breasted swan That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood With swarthy webs.
Attain the unattainable.