Clay lies still, but blood's a rover

Now, of my threescore years and ten, Twenty will not come again, And take from seventy springs a score, It only leaves me fifty more. And since to look at things in bloom Fifty springs are little room,

The house of delusions is cheap to build, but draughty to live in, and ready at any instant to fall.

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough.

Three minutes' thought would suffice to find this out; but thought is irksome and three minutes is a long time.

The most important truth which has ever been uttered, and the greatest discovery ever made in the moral world.

Lovers lying two and two Ask not whom they sleep beside, And the bridegroom all night through Never turns him to the bride.