Be calm in arguing: for fierceness makes Error a fault, and truth discourtesy.
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,
