Scorn, At First, Makes After-love The More.

Where Art Thou, Muse, That Thou Forget'st So Long / To Speak Of That Which Gives Thee All Thy Might?

Farewell The Plumed Troop, And The Big Wars That Make Ambition Virtue! O, Farewell! Farewell The Neighing Steed And The Shrill Trump, The Spirit-stirring Drum, Th' Ear-piercing Fife, The Royal Banner, And All Quality, Pride, Pomp, And Circumstance Of Glorious War!

The Law Hath Not Been Dead, Though It Hath Slept.

Take You Me For A Sponge?

So Full Of Shapes Is Fancy That It Alone Is High Fantastical.