If Something Is Not Beautiful, It Is

And Shade The Violets, That They May Bind The Moss In Leafy Nets.

That Queen Of Secrecy, The Violet.

Do You Not See How Necessary A World Of Pains And Troubles Is To School An Intelligence And Make It A Soul?

All My Clear-eyed Fish, Golden, Or Rainbow-sided, Or Purplish, Vermilion-tail'd, Or Finn'd With Silvery Gauze... My Charming Rod, My Potent River Spells.

To Sorrow I Bade Good-morrow, And Thought To Leave Her Far Away Behind; But Cheerly, Cheerly, She Loves Me Dearly: She Is So Constant To Me, And So Kind.