The woods are hush'd, their music is no more; The leaf is dead, the yearning past away; New leaf, new life--the days of frost are o'er; New life, new love, to suit the newer day: New loves are sweet as those that went before: Free love--free field--we love but while we may.

I will be deafer than the blue-eyed cat, And thrice as blind as any noonday owl, To holy virgins in their ecstasies.

Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes.

A lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies.

How many a father have I seen, A sober man, among his boys, Whose youth was full of foolish noise.

Though thou wert scattered to the wind, Yet is there plenty of the kind.

Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace;Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul,While the stars burn, the moons increase,And the great ages onward roll. Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet. Nothing comes to thee new or strange. Sleep full of rest from head to feet;Lie still, dry dust, secure of change.