WHEN I love, as some have told, Love I shall when I am old, O ye Graces! make me fit For the welcoming of it. Clean my rooms as temples be, To entertain that deity; Give me words wherewith to woo, Suppling and successful too; Winning postures, and withal, Manners each way musical; Sweetnesse to allay my sour And unsmooth behavior: For I know you have the skill Vines to prune, though not to kill; And of any wood ye see,
You can make a Mercury.
HERRICK.
"By pain of heart, now checked, and now impelled, The intellectual power from words to things
Went sounding on, - a dim and perilous way."-WORDSWORTH.