All passes. Art alone/ Enduring stays to us;/ The bust outlasts the throne |
And I wove the thing to a random rhyme, / For the Rose is Beauty, the Gardener, Time. |
For I respectfully decline / To dignify the Serpentine, / And make hors-d'oeuvres for fishes. |
I intended an Ode, / And it turned to a Sonnet. |
Look thy last on all things lovely, Every hour - let no night Seal thy sense in deathly slumber Till to delight Thou hast paid thy utmost blessing |
Look thy last on all things lovely, Every hour - let no night Seal thy sense in deathly slumber Till to delight Thou hast paid thy utmost blessing |
Love comes unseen; we only see it go |
The ladies of St James's! / They're painted to the eyes, / Their white it stays for ever, / Their red it never dies: / But Phyllida, my Phyllida! / Her colour comes and goes; / It trembles to a lily, - / It wavers to a rose. |
The ladies of St James's! They're painted to the eyes, Their white it stays for ever, Their red it never dies: But Phyllida, my Phyllida! Her colour comes and goes; It trembles to a lily, It wavers to a rose. |
Time goes, you say? Ah no! Alas, Time stays, we go |