Fame, like a wayward girl, will still be coy To those who woo her with too slavish knees, But makes surrender to some thoughtless boy, And dotes the more upon a heart at ease; She is a Gipsey,—will not speak to those Who have not learnt to be content without her; A Jilt, whose ear was never whisper’d close, Who thinks they scandal her who talk about her; A very Gipsey is she, Nilus-born, Sister-in-law to jealous Potiphar; Ye love-sick Bards! repay her scorn for scorn; Ye Artists lovelorn! madmen that ...

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Fame, like a wayward girl, will still be coy To those who woo her with too slavish knees, But makes surrender to some thoughtless boy, And dotes the more upon a heart at ease; She is a Gipsey,—will not speak to those Who have not learnt to be content without her; A Jilt, whose ear was never whisper’d close, Who thinks they scandal her who talk about her; A very Gipsey is she, Nilus-born, Sister-in-law to jealous Potiphar; Ye love-sick Bards! repay her scorn for scorn; Ye Artists lovelorn! madmen that ...

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A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing A flowery band to bind us to the earth, Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth Of noble natures, of the gloomy days, Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away ...

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