Will that light come again, As now these tears come...falling hot and real!

An ignorance of means may minister to greatness, but an ignorance of aims make it impossible to be great at all.

But so fair, She takes the breath of men away Who gaze upon her unaware.

The essence of all beauty, I call love.

Or from Browning some "Pomegranate," which if cut deep down the middle Shows a heart within blood-tinctured, of a veined humanity.

And yet, because I love thee, I obtain From that same love this vindicating grace, To live on still in love, and yet in vain

Girls blush, sometimes, because they are alive, half wishing they were dead to save the shame. The sudden blush devours them, neck and brow; They have drawn too near the fire of life, like gnats, and flare up bodily, wings and all. What then? Who's sorry for a gnat or girl?