THE NOBLE NATURE It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make Man better be; Is fairer far in May, Although it fall and die that night — It was the plant and flower of Light. In small proportions we just beauties see; And in short measures life may perfect be. Ben Jonson THE PULLEY When God at first made Man, Having a glass of blessings standing by; Let us (said He) pour on him all we can: Let the world's riches, which dispersed lie, Contract into a span. So strength first made a way; Then beauty flow'd, then wisdom, honour, pleasure: For if I should (said He) Bestow this jewel also on My creature, Yet let him keep the rest, But keep them with repining restlessness: George Herbert TRUE BEAUTY He that loves a rosy cheek But a smooth and steadfast mind, Thomas Carew SHE IS NOT FAIR TO OUTWARD VIEW She is not fair to outward view As many maidens be; Her loveliness I never knew Until she smiled on me. Oh then I saw her eye was bright, But now her looks are coy and cold, Hartley Coleridge VIRTUE IMMORTAL Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die. Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, Only a sweet and virtuous soul, But though the whole world turn to coal, George Herbert ON THE CASTLE OF CHILLON Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind! And when thy sons to fetters are consign'd, Chillon! thy prison is a holy place Worn as if thy cold pavement were a sod, Lord Byron A PETITION TO TIME Touch us gently, Time! Let us glide adown thy stream Gently as we sometimes glide Through a quiet dream. Humble voyagers are we, Husband, wife, and children three. Touch us gently, Time! We've not proud nor soaring wings, Touch us gently, gentle Time. Bryan Waller Procter THE "OLD, OLD SONG" When all the world is young, lad, Then hey for boot and horse, lad, And round the world away; Young blood must have its course, lad, And every dog his day. When all the world is old, lad, And all the trees are brown; And all the sport is stale, lad, Creep home, and take your place there, God grant you find one face there Charles Kingsley SHE DWELT AMONG THE UNTRODDEN WAYS She dwelt among the untrodden ways A maid whom there were none to praise, She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me! √SHE William Wordsworth SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY She walks in beauty, like the night One shade the more, one ray the less, And on that cheek and o'er that brow The smiles that win, the tints that glow A mind at peace with all below, Lord Byron |