He wonder’d, / He stood in his / Shoes and he wonder’d.                                 

John Keats, ‘A Song about Myself’

The birds were silent in their nest, / And I must seek for mine

Wm Blake, ‘Night’

They are not long, the days of wine and roses       

Ernest Dowson (1867-1900) trans Horace

And there was his house, clear against the skyline:

A solid-looking, stone-built place, fenced about with split oak

Neil Curry’s translation of The Odyssey: The Bending of the Bow.

When all the hills are flat, / and all the seas run dry…              

Anon