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  ... That know not to possess and yet refrain! Let the young Psyche roam, a fleeting kiss: Grasp it--a few poor grains of dust remain. See how those floating flowers, the butterflies, Hover the garden thro', and take no root! Desire for ever hath a flying foot: Free pleasure comes and goes beneath the skies.
Close not thy hand upon the innocent joy That trusts itself within thy reach. It may, Or may not, linger. Thou canst but destroy The winged wanderer. Let it go or stay. Love thou the rose, yet leave it on its stem.   Think! Midas starved by turning all to gold. Blessed are those that spare, and that withhold; Because the whole world shall be trusted them.
The foolish Faun pursues the unwilling Nymph That culls her flowers beside the precipice Or dips her shining ankles in the lymph: But, just when she must perish or be his, Heaven puts an arm out. She is safe. The shore Gains some new fountain; or the lilied lawn A rarer sort of rose: but ah, poor Faun! To thee she shall be changed...   Bulwer-Lytton, Edward G.

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