Yes, I have dreams. I ofttimes dream of Love As radiant and brilliant as a star. As changeless, too, as that fixed light afar Which glorifies vast worlds of space above.

I think of death as some delightful journey that I shall take when all my tasks are done.

No path is wholly rough.

No one will grieve because your lips are dumb.

It has ever been since time began, and ever will be, till time lose breath, that love is a mood - no more - to man, and love to a woman is life or death.

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.

You never can tell when you send a word, Like an arrow shot from a bow By an archer blind, be it cruel or kind, Just where it may chance to go!