Beauty is Nature's coin, must not be hoarded.
But must be current, and the good thereof
Consists in mutual and partaken bliss.
Unsavory in th' enjoyment of itself:
If you let slip time, like a neglected rose,
It withers on the stalk with languished head.
Comus. MILTON.
Thoughtless of beauty, she was Beauty's self.
The Seasons: Autumn. J. THOMSON.
In beauty, faults conspicuous grow;
The smallest speck is seen on snow.
Fables: Peacock, Turkey, and Goose. J. GAY.
The maid who modestly conceals
Her beauties, while she hides, reveals:
Gives but a glimpse, and fancy draws
Whate'er the Grecian Venus was.
The Spider and the Bee. E. MOORE.
Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good;
A shining gloss that vadeth suddenly;
A flower that dies when first it 'gins to bud;
A brittle glass that 's broken presently;
A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower,
Lost, vaded, broken, dead within an hour.
The Passionate Pilgrim. SHAKESPEARE.
BELL.
Tuned be its metal mouth alone
To things eternal and sublime.
And as the swift-winged hours speed on
May it record the flight of time!
Song of the Bell. F. SCHILLER.
Trans. E.A. BOWRING.
The bells themselves are the best of preachers,
Their brazen lips are learnèd teachers,
From their pulpits of stone, in the upper air,
Sounding aloft, without crack or flaw,
Shriller than trumpets under the Law,
Now a sermon and now a prayer.
Christus: The Golden Legend, Pt. III.
H.W. LONGFELLOW.
And the Sabbath bell,
That over wood and wild and mountain dell
Wanders so far, chasing all thoughts unholy
With sounds most musical, most melancholy.
Human Life. S. ROGERS.
Sweet Sunday bells! your measured sound
Enhances the repose profound
Of all these golden fields around,
And range of mountain, sunshine-drowned.
Sunday Bells. W. ALLINGHAM.