I equally dislike the favor of the public with the love of a woman - they are both a cloying treacle to the wings of independence.
Philosophy will clip an angel's wings.
When it is moving on luxurious wings, The soul is lost in pleasant smotherings.
But let me see thee stoop from heaven on wings That fill the sky with silver glitterings!
Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight; With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white, And taper fingers catching at all things, To bind them all about with tiny rings.
Sometimes goldfinches one by one will drop From low hung branches; little space they stop; But sip, and twitter, and their feathers sleek; Then off at once, as in a wanton freak: Or perhaps, to show their black, and golden wings Pausing upon their yellow flutterings.