With the beanflower's boon,
And the blackbird's tune,
And May and June!
With the beanflower's boon,
And the blackbird's tune,
And May and June!
A man's reach should exceed his grasp. Or what's a heaven for?
"With this same key Shakespeare unlocked his heart" once more! Did Shakespeare? If so, the less Shakespeare he!
Of what I call God, And fools call Nature.
In God's good time, Which does not always fall on Saturday When the world looks for wages.
O world, as God has made it! All is beauty.
Round and round, like a dance of snow In a dazzling drift, as its guardians, go Floating the women faded for ages, Sculptured in stone on the poet's pages.
There's a woman like a dewdrop, she's so purer than the purest.
It 's wiser being good than bad; It 's safer being meek than fierce; It 's fitter being sane than mad. My own hope is, a sun will pierce The thickest cloud earth ever stretched; That after Last returns the First, Though a wide compass round be fetched; That what began best can't end worst, Nor what God blessed once prove accurst.
It 's wiser being good than bad; It 's safer being meek than fierce; It 's fitter being sane than mad. My own hope is, a sun will pierce The thickest cloud earth ever stretched; That after Last returns the First, Though a wide compass round be fetched;