As well a well-wrought urn becomes The greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs.

The Phoenix riddle hath more wit By us, we two being one, are it. So to one neutral thing both sexes fit, We die and rise the same, and prove Mysterious by thi…

I am two fools, I know, For loving, and for saying so In whining poetry.

For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love.

Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his g…

And so sepulchred in such pomp dost lie, That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.

Count not the cost of honour to the dead! The tribute that a mighty nation pays To those who loved her well in former days Means more than gratitude for glorie…