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Dost thou, fair Sikyon, hesitate to raise A fitting tomb to thy lost hero's praise? Curst be the land, nay, curst the air or wave That grudges room for thy Aratus' grave.
Plutarch
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My silks and fine array, My smiles and languished air, By love are driv'n away And mournful lean Despair Brings me yew to deck my grave Such end true lovers have.
William Blake
Know'st thou the land where the lemon-trees bloom, Where the gold orange glows in the deep thicket's gloom, Where a wind ever soft from the blue heaven blows, And the groves are of laurel and myrtle and rose.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
It is sweet to dance to violins When Love and Life are fair To dance to flutes, to dance to lutes Is delicate and rare But it is not sweet with nimble feet To dance upon the air.
Oscar Wilde
The voice so sweet, the words so fair, As some soft chime had stroke the air And though the sound had parted thence, Still left an echo in the sense.
Ben Jonson
It is a thing of no great difficulty to raise objections against another man's oration nay, it is a very easy matter but to produce a better in its place is a work extremely troublesome.
Plutarch