Not with dreams, but with blood and with iron, Shall a nation be moulded at last.

Is not Precedent indeed a King of men? A Word from the Psalmist.

When I hear that a personal friend has fallen into matrimonial courses, I feel the same sorrow as if I had heard of his lapsing into theism — a holy sorrow, unmixed with anger.

For winter's rains and ruins are over, And all the season of snows and sins; The days dividing lover and lover, The light that loses, the night that wins; And time remembered isgrief forgotten, And frosts are slain and flowers begotten, And in green underwood and cover Blossom by blossom the spring begins.

If you were Queen of pleasure And I were King of pain We'd hunt down Love together, Pluck out his flying-feather, And teach his feet a measure, And find his mouth a rein; If you were Queen of pleasure And I were King of pain.

Yet leave me not; yet, if thou wilt, be free; love me no more, but love my love of thee.

And the best and the worst of this is That neither is most to blame, If you have forgotten my kisses And I have forgotten your name.