Not for the flag Of any land because myself was born there Will I give up my life. But I will love that land where man is free, And that will I defend.

Beauty in all things-no, we cannot hope for that; but some place set apart for it.

Not poppy, nor mandrake, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep, Which thou owest yesterday.

There is no God. But it does not matter. Man is enough.

I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.

She learned her hands in a fairy-tale, And her mouth on a valentine.

But you were something more than young and sweet And fair, - and the long year remembers you.