He Who Destroys A Good Book Kills

And Pomp, And Feast, And Revelry, With Mask, And Antique Pageantry, Such Sights As Youthful Poets Dream On Summer Eves By Haunted Stream. Then To The Well-trod Stage Anon, If Jonson's Learned Sock Be On, Or Sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's Child, Warble His Native Wood-notes Wild, And Ever, Against Eating Cares, Lap Me In Soft Lydian Airs, Married To Immortal Verse Such As The Meeting Soul May Pierce, In Notes With Many A Winding Bout Of Linked Sweetness Long Drawn Out.

Ladies, Whose Bright Eyes Rain Influence, And Judge The Prize.

By Night The Glass Of Galileo ... Observes Imagin'd Land And Regions In The Moon.

Revenge, At First Though Sweet, Bitter Ere Long Back On Itself Recoils.

Her Virtue And The Conscience Of Her Worth, That Would Be Woo'd, And Not Unsought Be Won.