Had it lived long, it would have been / Lilies without, roses within.

I have a garden of my own,/ But so with roses overgrown,/ And lilies, that you would it guess/ To be a little wilderness.

Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

Two Paradises t'were in one, to live in Paradise alone.

Gather the flowers, but spare the buds.

But at my back I always hear time's winged chariot hurrying near.