See golden days, fruitful of golden deeds, With joy and love triumphing.

Our torments also may in length of time Become our elements, these piercing fires As soft as now severe, our temper changed Into their temper.

So dear I love him, that with him, all deaths I could endure, without him, live no life.

Sabrina fair, Listen where thou art sitting Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave, In twisted braids of lilies knitting The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair.

Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eves by haunted stream. Then to the well-trod stage anon, If Jonson's learned sock be on, Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild.

Sweet bird, that shun the noise of folly, most musical, most melancholy!

A thousand fantasies Begin to throng into my memory, Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire, And airy tongues that syllable men's names On sands and shores and desert wildernesses