Who says that fictions only and false hair
Become a verse? Is there in truth no beauty?
Is all good structure in a winding stair?
Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky;
The dew shall weep thy fall tonight,
For thou must die.
Man is no star, but a quick coal
Of mortal fire:
Who blows it not, nor doth control
A faint desire,
Woe be to him that reads but one book.
The best mirror is an old friend.