The Flea
O how feeble is man's power, That if good fortune fall, Cannot add another hour, Nor a lost hour recall ; But come bad chance, And we join to it our strength, And we teach it art and length, Itself o'er us to advance.
The Dream
But, O alas ! so long, so far, Our bodies why do we forbear? They are ours, though not we ; we are Th' intelligences, they the spheres.