My garden all is overblown with roses,/ My spirit all is overblown with rhyme.
What is beautiful is good, and who is good will soon be beautiful.
The writer catches the changes of his mind on the hop. Growth is exciting; growth is dynamic and alarming. Growth of the soul, growth of the mind.
It is dreadful how I miss you, and everything that everybody says seems flat and stupid.
April, the angel of the months, the young love of the year.
I cannot bear that you / Should think me faithful, when I am untrue.