Henry F. Chorley, The Sapphire Necklace
“ For whatever the season around that deep stream, Be it snow-white winter or summer hot, There is love, tho' a wand'rer as some might dream Who passes and passes, yet changes not. Ah! Love, love, love. Love will be master under the sun While the wood grows and the waters run! ”
Henry F. Chorley, The Masque at Kenilworth
“ Here let us sit, and let the sound of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Look how the floor of Heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins; Such harmony is in immortal sounds ”
Henry F. Chorley, The Sapphire Necklace
“ It is not wealth and state that smooth the way, Nor bid the desert bloom, The ploughman at his furrow can be gay, The weaver at his loom. Where Honour's Lord content his wife hath room, And hearts keep light if heads are gray, Singing, till Echo doth repeat the sound, "May all who wed in truth with happiness be crown'd." Over the Roof Over the roof and over the wall, Grow, grow, the jessamine grow. ”
