"And that inverted Bowl we call the Sky, Whereunder crawling cooped we live and die, Lift not your hands to It for help – for It As impotently moves as you or I."

"For in and out, above, about, below, 'Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show, Played in a Box whose Candle is the Sun, Round which we Phantom Figures come and go."

"Look to the Rose that blows about us—'Lo, Laughing,' she says, 'into the World I blow, At once the silken Tassel of my Purse Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw.'"

"For some we loved, the loveliest and the best That from his Vintage rolling Time hath prest, Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before, And one by one crept silently to rest."

"You come like a thief in the night, and steal away a little portion of my life; and I cannot get it back again."