“ Night is the mother of counsels. ”
Who says that fictions only and false hairBecome a verse? Is there in truth no beauty?Is all good structure in a winding stair?
~ George Herbert
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 coalOf mortal fire:Who blows it not, nor doth controlA faint desire
I will complain, yet praise;I will bewail, approve:And all my sowre-sweet dayesI will lament, and love.
