I remember one that perish'd: sweetly did she speak and move: Such a one do I remember, whom to look at was to love.

Never, tho' my mortal summers to such length of years should come As the many-winter'd crow that leads the clanging rookery home.

Comfort? comfort scorn'd of devils! this is truth the poet sings, That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things.

He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force, Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse.

Pale hands I loved beside the Shalimar. Where are you now? Who lies beneath your spell? Whom do you lead on Rapture's roadway, far, Before you agonise them in …

A woman is more beautiful than the world in which I live; and so I close my eyes.

Her robe is a cloud, her face a flower; Her balcony, glimmering with the bright spring dew, Is either the tip of earth's Jade Mountain, Or a moon-edged roof of…