Music, the mosaic of the air.
Annihilating all that's made, To a green thought in a green shade.
How could such sweet and wholesome hours be reckoned, but in herbs and flowers?
Had we but world enough, and time, This coyness Lady were no crime. We would sit down, and think which way To walk, and pass our long love's day. Thou by the Indian Ganges'side Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide Of Humber would complain. I would Love you ten years before the flood.
And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity.
Among the blind the one-eyed blinkard reigns