But from the hoop's bewitching round, Her very shoe has power to wound.

'Tis now the summer of your youth: time has not cropped the roses from your cheek, though sorrow long has washed them.

I am free in performing an action if I could have done otherwise if I had chosen to.

Beauty has wings, and too hastily flies, and love, unrewarded, soon sickens and dies.

Other men it is said have seen angels, but I have seen thee and thou art enough.

I am rich beyond the dreams of avarice.

The hours I spend with you I look upon as sort of a perfumed garden, a dim twilight, and a fountain singing to it. You and you alone make me feel that I am alive. Other men it is said have seen angels, but I have seen thee and thou art enough.