You Jig, You Amble, And You Lisp.

The Native Hue Of Resolution Is Sicklied O'er With The Pale Cast Of Thought; And Enterprises Of Great Pitch And Moment, With This Regard, Their Currents Turn Awry, And Lose The Name Of Action.

...an Old Man Is Twice A Child.

But The Strong Base And Building Of My Love Is As The Very Centre Of The Earth, Drawing All Things To It.

Tell Me Where Is Fancy Bred, Or In The Heart, Or In The Head? How Begot, How Nourished? Reply, Reply. It Is Engend'red In The Eyes, With Gazing Fed, And Fancy Dies In The Cradle Where It Lies.

Bondage Is Hoarse, And May Not Speak Aloud.