You think it horrible that lust and rage Should dance attention upon my old age; They were not such a plague when I was young; What else have I to spur me into song?

If there's no hatred in a mind Assault and battery of the wind Can never tear the linnet from the leaf

Ah, let us kiss each other's eyes,/And laugh our love away.

Like a long-legged fly upon the stream / His mind moves upon silence.

Literature is always personal, always one man's vision of the world, one man's experience, and it can only be popular when men are ready to welcome the visions of others.

Because I helped to wind the clock, I come to hear it strike.

And pluck till time and times are done the silver apples of the moon the golden apples of the sun.