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

His faithful dog salutes the smiling guest.

An original something, dear maid, you would wish me to write; but how shall I begin? For I'm sure I have not original in me, Excepting Original Sin.

Love's a fire that needs renewal Of fresh beauty for its fuel.

The only thing that is fundamental (real) is consciousness itself; all else is virtual- i.e., a result of an exchange of information within consciousness.

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

O leave this barren spot to me! Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree.