I Love your lips when they're wet with wine and red with wicked desire.

Let us clear a little space, And make Love a burial-place. He is dead, dear, as you see, And he wearies you and me.

Love lights more fire than hate extinguishes.

Through strife the slumbering soul awakes, We learn on error's troubled route The truths we could not prize without The sorrow of our sad mistakes.

There is nothing we cannot live down, and rise above, and overcome.

It is easy enough to be virtuous When nothing tempts you to stray; When without or within No voice of sin Is luring your soul away. But it is only a negative virtue until it is tried by fire. For the soul that is worth the treasures of the earth is the soul that resists desire.

I was as pure as the morning When I first looked on your face; I knew I never could reach you In your high, exalted place.