British diplomat, poet
And hope is but a dream of those that wake.
The end must justify the means.
Hope is but the dream of those that wake.
They never taste who always drink They always talk who never think.
Similes are like songs of love: They much describe they nothing prove.
Hope is but the dream of those who wake.
Fantastic tyrant of the amorous heart. How hard thy yoke, how cruel thy dart. Those escape your anger who refuse your sway, and those are punished most, who most obey. .
