A very man--not one of nature's clods-- With human failings, whether saint or sinner: Endowed perhaps with genius from the gods But apt to take his temper from his dinner.

But her voice is still living immortal, The same you have frequently heard, In your rambles in valleys and forests, Repeating your ultimate word.

'Tis well to borrow from the good and the great; 'Tis wise to learn: 'tis God-like to create!

I love vast libraries; yet there is a doubt, If one be better with them or without,-- Unless he use them wisely, and, indeed, Knows the high art of what and how to read.

Nay, tarry a moment, my charming girl; Here is a jewel of gold and pearl; A beautiful cross it is I ween As ever on beauty's breast was seen; There's nothing at all but love to pay; Take it and wear it, but only stay! Ah! Sir Hunter, what excellent taste! I'm not--in such--particular--haste.

I will touch My mouth unto the leaves, caressingly; And so wilt thou. Thus, from these lips of mine My message will go kissingly to thine, With more than Fancy's load of luxury, And prove a true love-letter.