O human beauty, what a dream art thou, that we should cast our life and hopes away on thee!
So mightiest powers buy deepest calms are fed, And sleep, how oft, in things that gentlest be!
The sweetest noise on earth, a woman's tongue; A string which hath no discord.
Shadows fall on even the brightest hours.
Oh, the summer night, Has a smile of light, And she sits on a sapphire throne.
Pity speaks to grief more sweetly than a band of instruments.