Who dreamed that beauty passes like a dream?

Words alone are certain good.

Many ingenious lovely things are gone / That seemed sheer miracle to the multitude.

Land of Heart's Desire Where beauty has no ebb, decay no flood, But joy is wisdom, time an endless song.

We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, but of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry.

But was there ever dog that praised his fleas?

Only God, my dear, Could love you for yourself alone And not your yellow hair.