Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky When storms prepare to part, I ask not proud Philosophy To teach me what thou art.

Our purpose is to grow up and become love

Never wedding, ever wooing, Still a lovelorn heart pursuing, Read you not the wrong you're doing In my cheek's pale hue? All my life with sorrow strewing; Wed or cease to woo.

What though my winged hours of bliss have been, Like angel visits, few and far between.

The meteor flag of England Shall yet terrific burn, Till danger's troubled night depart, And the star of peace return.

Ye mariners of England! That guard our native seas; Whose flag has braved a thousand years, The battle and the breeze!

Oh, how hard it is to find The one just suited to our mind!