Fairy Damsels Met In Forest Wide /

And May At Last My Weary Age Find Out The Peaceful Hermitage, The Hairy Gown And Mossy Cell, Where I May Sit And Rightly Spell Of Every Star That Heaven Doth Shew, And Every Herb That Sips The Dew, Till Old Experience To Attain To Something Like Prophetic Strain.

There Is No Truth Sure Enough To Justify Persecution.

Was I Deceiv'd, Or Did A Sable Cloud Turn Forth Her Silver Lining On The Night?

The Planets In Their Station List'ning Stood.

No War Or Battle Sound Was Heard The World Around.