I knew it the first of the summer, I knew it the same at the end, That you and your love were plighted, But couldn't you be my friend?
Keep out of the past. It is haunted.
A day which passed without a poem from my pen I considered lost and misused.
There is nothing ridiculous in love.
'Tis the set of the sail that decides the goal, and not the storm of life.
Trust in your own untried capacity.