I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, / Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs.

Now a soft kiss - Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.

Now a soft kiss -- Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss

Where's the face / One would meet in every place? / Where's the voice, however soft, / One would hear so very oft?

I do think better of womankind than to suppose they care whether Mister John Keats five feet high likes them or not.

I will give you a definition of a proud man: he is a man who has neither vanity nor wisdom one filled with hatreds cannot be vain, neither can he be wise.