With what cracked pitchers go we to deep wells In this world!
You're something between a dream and a miracle.
Since when was genius found respectable?
And Marlowe, Webster, Fletcher, Ben, Whose fire-hearts sowed our furrows when The world was worthy of such men.
The flower-girl's prayer to buy roses and pinks, held out in the smoke, like stars by day.
A woman's pity sometimes makes her mad.