Still more labyrinthine buds the rose. |
Stung by the splendour of a sudden thought |
Such ever was love's way; to rise, it stoops |
Such grace had kings when the world begun! |
Take away love and our earth is a tomb. |
That great brow / And the spirit-small hand propping it. |
That he was dead and then restored to life / By a Nazarene physician of his tribe. |
That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, lest you should think he never could recapture the first fine careless rapture! |
The aim, if reached or not, makes great the life: Try to be Shakespeare, leave the rest to fate! |
The are times when patience proves at fault. |
The bee's kiss, now! / Kiss me as if you entered gay / My heart at some noonday. |
The best is yet to be, The last of life, for which the first was made |
The first option is almost always covered. That's why the play is designed to create multiple opportunities. |
The glory dropped from their youth and love, / And both perceived they had dreamed a dream. |
The grand Perhaps! |