Horace appears in good humor while he censures, and therefore his censure has the more weight, as supposed to proceed from judgment and not from passion.

Our birth is nothing but our death begun; As tapers waste, that instant they take fire.

Prayer ardent opens heaven.

Beautiful as sweet, And young as beautiful, and soft as young, And gay as soft, and innocent as gay!

The maid that loves goes out to sea upon a shattered plank, and puts her trust in miracles for safety.

The bell strikes one. We take no note of time But from its loss.

There is something about poetry beyond prose logic, there is mystery in it, not to be explained but admired.