To-morrow Comes, True Copy Of To-day,and Empty

For Nature Is Love, And Finds Haunts For True Love, Where Nothing Can Hear Or Intrude; It Hides From The Eagle And Joins With The Dove, In Beautiful Green Solitude.

How Oft A Summer Shower Has Started Me; To Seek The Shelter Of A Hollow Tree

I Was Byron And Shakespeare Formerly.

I Lost The Love Of Heaven Above I Spurned The Lust Of Earth Below I Felt The Sweets Of Fancied Love And Hell Itself My Only Foe.

The Wild Swan Hurries Hight And Noises Loud With White Neck Peering To The Evening Clowd. The Weary Rooks To Distant Woods Are Gone. With Lengths Of Tail The Magpie Winnows On To Neighbouring Tree, And Leaves The Distant Crow While Small Birds Nestle In The Edge Below.