Where sportive ladies leave their doors ajar. |
Where the heart lies, let the brain lie also. |
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough / In England - now! |
White shall not neutralize the black, nor good Compensate bad in man, absolve him so: Life's business being just the terrible choice |
Who fished the murex up? / What porridge had John Keats? |
Who hears music, feels his solitude peopled at once. |
Who hears music, feels his solitude peopled at once. |
Whom but a dusk misfeatured messenger, / No other than the angel of this life, / Whose care is lest men see too much at once. |
Why comes temptation but for man to meet/ And master and make crouch beneath his foot, / And so be pedestaled in triumph? |
Why need the other women know so much? |
Why should I set so fine a gloss on things? |
With shrieking and squeaking / In fifty different sharps and flats. |
Would you have your songs endure? Build on the human heart |
You should not take a fellow eight years old / And make him swear to never kiss the girls. |
You, for example, clever to a fault, / The rough and ready man that write apace, / Read somewhat seldomer, think perhaps even less. |