Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon, The winds that will be howling at all hours,A nd are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,
My candle burns at both ends, it will not last the night.
But Ah, my foes, and Oh, my friends, it gives a lovely light.
Once I'm sure there's nothing going on, I step inside, letting the door thud shut.
I think I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree.
And summer's lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd; But thy eternal summer shall not fade