When Death to either shall come - I pray it be first to me.

O soul, be patient: thou shalt find A little matter mend all this; Some strain of music to thy mind, Some praise for skill not spent amiss.

I know that if odour were visible, as colour is, I'd see the summer garden in rainbow clouds.

When first we met we did not guess that Love would prove so hard a master.

The lonely season in lonely lands, when fled Are half the birds, and mists lie low, and the sun Is rarely seen, nor strayeth far from his bed; The short days pass unwelcomed one by one.

My delight and thy delight Walking, like two angels white, In the gardens of the night.

Beauty being the best of all we know sums up the unsearchable and secret aims of nature.