I see, the jewel best enamelled
Will lose his beauty; yet the gold bides still
That others read more

I see, the jewel best enamelled
Will lose his beauty; yet the gold bides still
That others touch, and often touching will
Wear gold; and no man that hath a name,
By falsehood and corruption doth it shame.

Loud is the summer's busy song
The smallest breeze can find a tongue,
While insects of each read more

Loud is the summer's busy song
The smallest breeze can find a tongue,
While insects of each tiny size
Grow teasing with their melodies,
Till noon burns with its blistering breath
Around, and day lies still as death.

Wear a Sardonyx or for thee
No conjugal felicity.
The August-born without this stone
read more

Wear a Sardonyx or for thee
No conjugal felicity.
The August-born without this stone
'Tis said must live unloved and lone.

A good wife is heaven's last, best gift to man, - his gem of many virtues, his casket of jewels; read more

A good wife is heaven's last, best gift to man, - his gem of many virtues, his casket of jewels; her voice is sweet music, her smiles his brightest day, her kiss the guardian of his innocence, her arms the pale of his safety...

And I had lent my watch last night to one
That dines to-day at the sheriff's.

And I had lent my watch last night to one
That dines to-day at the sheriff's.

A maiden born when Autumn leaves
Are rustling in September's breeze,
A Sapphire on her brow should read more

A maiden born when Autumn leaves
Are rustling in September's breeze,
A Sapphire on her brow should bind,
'Twill cure diseases of the mind.

'Tis plate of rare device and jewels
Of rich and exquisite form, their values great,
And I read more

'Tis plate of rare device and jewels
Of rich and exquisite form, their values great,
And I am something curious, being strange,
To have them in sale stowage.

Oh her white breast a sparkling cross she wore,
Which Jews might kiss and Infidels adore.

Oh her white breast a sparkling cross she wore,
Which Jews might kiss and Infidels adore.

The linden, in the fervors of July,
Hums with a louder concert. When the wind
Sweeps the read more

The linden, in the fervors of July,
Hums with a louder concert. When the wind
Sweeps the broad forest in its summer prime,
As when some master-hand exulting sweeps
The keys of some great organ, ye give forth
The music of the woodland depths, a hymn
Of gladness and of thanks.