Not all the water in the rough rude sea Can wash the balm from an anointed King.

Full many a glorious morn I have seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy.

There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Would men observingly distill it out.

For thou hast given me in this beauteous face A world of earthly blessings to my soul, If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.

For they are yet ear-kissing arguments.

To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I ey'd, Such seems your beauty still.

There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting.