The moon has set In a bank of jet That fringes the Western sky, The pleiads seven Have sunk from heaven And the midnight hurries by; My hopes are flown And, alas! alone On my weary couch I lie.

Would Jove appoint some flower to reign, in matchless beauty on the plain, the Rose (mankind will all agree). The Rose the queen of flowers should be.

Mere air, these words, but delicious to hear.

Death is an evil; the gods have so judged; had it been good, they would die.

The moon is setand the Pleiades; Middle ofthe night, time passes by,I lie alone.

May I write words more naked than flesh, stronger than bone, more resilient than sinew, sensitive than nerve.

In gold sandals / dawn like a thief / fell upon me.