When we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted, To sever for years.
And life 's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.
Where are the forms the sculptor's soul hath seized? In him alone, Can nature show as fair?
No hand can make the clock strike for me the hours that are passed.
My turn of mind is so given to taking things in the absurd point of view, that it breaks out in spite of me every now and then.
A pretty woman is a welcome guest.