Desperate remorse swallows the present in a quenchless rage.
The cut worm forgives the plow.
Children of the future age Reading this indignant page Know that in a former time Love, sweet love, was thought a crime
The lust of the goat is the bounty of God.
To the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself.
Love seeketh only self to please, To bind another to its delight, Joys in another's loss of ease, And builds a Hell in Heaven's despite.