Look Homeward, Angel, Now, And Melt With

Mammon, The Least Erected Spirit That Fell >from Heaven; For Ev'n In Heaven His Looks And Thoughts Were Always Downward Bent, Admiring More The Riches Of Heaven's Pavement, Trodden Gold, Than Aught Divine Or Holy Else Enjoy'd In Vision Beatific.

What Is Dark Within Me, Illumine.

Implied Subjection, But Requir'd With Gentle Sway, And By Her Yielded, By Him Best Receiv'd,- Yielded With Coy Submission, Modest Pride, And Sweet, Reluctant, Amorous Delay.

What Boots It At One Gate To Make Defence, And At Another To Let In The Foe?

Thus I Set My Printless Feet O'er The Cowslip's Velvet Head, That Bends Not As I Tread.