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To lead my love to bed, and to arise;

And pluck the wings from painted butterflies,

To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes;

Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies.

How many short and pithy thoughts dazzle in the gorgeous pages of this bard. In the following, he shows the mystic sympathy of the senses:—

Again, he speaks of the brilliancy and lovely translucency of woman's eye (all good men agree with Shakespeare's praise of woman):—

Perhaps one of the most charming thoughts may lie in the following. We say may lie, for we are constantly discovering new, brighter, and more heavenly meaning in Shakespeare; and, believe, various minds receive very various delights in reading the scriptures of this spirit from his poems. The quotation is, where he is showing sorrow turned into joy:—

Again (here is one of our own figures) the poet describes