Where beauty has no ebb, decay no flood, But joy is wisdom, time an endless song.

May she be granted beauty and yet notBeauty to make a stranger's eye distraught,Or hers before a looking-glass, for such,Being made beautiful overmuch,Consider beauty a sufficient end,Lose natural kindness and maybeThe heart-revealing intimacyThat chooses right, and never find a friend.

Time's bitter flood will rise,Your beauty perish and be lostFor all eyes but these eyes.

If suffering brings wisdom, I would wish to be less wise.

Joy is of the will which labours, which overcomes obstacles, which knows triumph.

Farewell -- farewell,For I am weary of the weight of time.