O human beauty, what a dream art thou, that we should cast our life and hopes away on thee!

All round the room my silent servants wait, My friends in every season, bright and dim.

Love can take what shape he pleases; and when once begun his fiery inroad in the soul, how vain the after knowledge which his presence gives! We weep or rave; but still he lives, and lives master and lord, amidst pride and tears and pain.

Shadows fall on even the brightest hours.

How silent are the winds!

I said that I loved the wise proverb, Brief, simple and deep; For it I'd exchange the great poem That sends us to sleep.

Despair doth strike as deep a furrow in the brain as mischief or remorse.