What ardently we wish, we soon believe.

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

Youth is not rich in time; it may be poor; Part with it as with money, sparing; pay No moment but in purchase of its worth, And what it's worth, ask death-beds; they can tell.

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

Man makes a death which Nature never made. And feels a thousand deaths in fearing one.

Fame is the shade of immortality, And in itself a shadow. Soon as caught, Contemn'd; it shrinks to nothing in the grasp.

What tender force, what dignity divine, what virtue consecrating every feature; around that neck what dross are gold and pearl!