Since truth and constancy are vain, Since neither love, nor sense of pain, Nor force of reason, can persuade, Then let example be obey'd.

The kiss you take is paid by that you give: The joy is mutual, and I'm still in debt.

But, oh! what mighty magician can assuage A woman's envy?

Thy thoughts to nobler meditations give, And study how to die, not how to live.

Happy the man, of mortals happiest he, Whose quiet mind from vain desires is free; Whom neither hopes deceive, nor fears torment, But lives at peace, within himself content; In thought, or act, accountable to none But to himself, and to the gods alone.

The simple Wordsworth . . . / Who, both by precept and example, shows / That prose is verse, and verse is merely prose.