The yielding marble of her snowy breast.

There is a garden in her face Where roses and white lilies blow; A heavenly paradise is that place, Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow: There cherries grow wh…

That eagle's fate and mine are one, Which on the shaft that made him die Espied a feather of his own, Wherewith he wont to soar so high.

The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed, Lets in new light through chinks that Time has made; Stronger by weakness, wiser, men become As they draw near t…

The glory of the day was in her face, The beauty of the night was in her eyes. And over all her loveliness, the grace Of Morning blushing in the early skies.

And there, a field rat, startled, squealing bleeds, His belly close to ground. I see the blade, Blood-stained, continue cutting weeds and shade

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