The world's male chivalry has perished out, but women are knights-errant to the last; and, if Cervantes had been greater still, he had made his Don a Donna.

I would build a cloudy House For my thoughts to live in; When for earth too fancy-loose And too low for Heaven! Hush! I talk my dream aloud - I build it bright to see, - I build it on the moonlit cloud, To which I looked with thee.

A grave, on which to rest from singing?

The beautiful seems right by force of beauty and the feeble wrong because of weakness.

Every age, Through being beheld too close, is ill-discerned By those who have not lived past it.

I, who thought to sink, was caught up into love, and taught the whole of life in a new rhythm.

When we first met and loved, I did not build Upon the event with marble. . . .