We are happy when for everything inside us there is a corresponding something outside us.

Come let us mock at the great That had such burdens on the mind And toiled so hard and late To leave some monument behind, Nor thought of the leveling wind.

How can I, that girl standing there, My attention fix On Roman or on Russian Or on Spanish politics?

Where the wave of moonlight glosses The dim gray sands with light, Far off by furthest Rosses We foot it all the night, Weaving olden dances, Mingling hands and mingling glances Till the moon has taken flight; To and fro we leap And chase the frothy bubbles, While the world is full of troubles And is anxious in its sleep. . . .

When two close kindred meet What better than call a dance?.

In dreams begin responsibilitiy.

It's certain that fine women eat A crazy salad with their meat.