But hearts, the more they’re bruised and broken here on earth,
In heaven are so much the costlier and the fairer.
TO A GENEROUS MAN.
To cloud of rain refreshing all the land,
It is not fit to liken thy free hand;
For as that gives it weeps meanwhile,
But thou still givest with a smile.
BEAUTY’S PREROGATIVE.
Thy beauty pales all sublunary things,
And man to vassalage eternal dooms: