She knows not loves that kissed her She knows not where. Art thou the ghost, my sister, White sister there, Am I the ghost, who knows? My hand, a fallen rose, Lies snow-white on white snows, and takes no care.

Blossom by blossom the spring begins.

The highest spiritual quality, the noblest property of mind a man can have, is this of loyalty.

Change lays her hand not upon the truth.

Who knows but on their sleep may rise Such light as never heaven let through To lighten earth from Paradise?

Sleep; and if life was bitter to thee, pardon, If sweet, give thanks; thou hast no more to live; And to give thanks is good, and to forgive.

Stately, kindly, lordly friend Condescend Here to sit by me.