'Tis well: the rack, the chain, the wheel, Far better had'st thou proved; Ev'n I could almost pity feel, For thou art not beloved. - Letitia Elizabeth Landon

It is a charmed ring—this emerald stone
Will be a sign, when thou art from me gone.
Mark if it changes; if a spot be seen
On the now spotless ground of lighted green,
Danger is round me; haste thou then to me,
Thou know'st how fearless is my trust in thee.

... we English people delight in a moral — not a moral to be deduced or inferred, but a nice, rounded, little moral, in all the starch of set sentences, and placed just at the end,

In a valley sweet with singing
From the hill and from the wood,
Where the green moss rills were springing,
A wondrous maiden stood.
The first lark seemed to carry
Her coming through the air ;
Not long she wont to tarry,
Though she wandered none knew where.