Look to the Rose that blows about us—'Lo, Laughing,' she says, 'into the World I blow, At once the silken Tassel of my Purse Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw.'
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"Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before I swore—but was I sober when I swore? And then—and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand My spirit will not all renounce her lore."
"The Potter, having labor’d long and sore In many a Wheel, turns out at last no more Than a broken Pot, which he throws away, And then begins his work again as before."
"There was a Door to which I found no Key: There was a Veil past which I could not see: Some little Talk awhile of Me and Thee There was—and then no more of Thee and Me."
"Myself when young did eagerly frequent Doctor and Saint, and heard great Argument About it and about: but evermore Came out by the same Door as in I went."
"The Palace that to Heav'n his pillars threw, And Kings the Throne of Jamshyd high o'erthrew, In whose high Courts the crowing Cock might once Have crow'd, but now the Lizard and the Rue."
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