I Can Give The Loser Leave To

For Such Things As You, I Can Scarce Think There's Any, Ye're So Slight.

Call Me What Instrument You Will, Though You Can Fret Me, You Cannot Play Upon Me.

Travelers Never Did Lie, Though Fools At Home Condemn Them.

Love Hath Made Thee A Tame Snake

Full Many A Glorious Morn I Have Seen Flatter The Mountain-tops With Sovereign Eye, Kissing With Golden Face The Meadows Green, Gilding Pale Streams With Heavenly Alchemy.