He who makes his law a curse, by his own law shall surely die.
Eternity is in love with the productions of time.
Desperate remorse swallows the present in a quenchless rage.
And I watered it in fears, Night and morning with my tears; And I sunned it with smiles, And with soft deceitful wiles.
The eye altering, alters all.
O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stained With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit Beneath my shady roof; there thou may'st rest, And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe; And all the daughters of the year shall dance! Sing now the lusty song of fruit and flowers.