How happy they are, in all seeming, How gay, or how smilingly proud, How brightly their faces are beaming, These people who make up the crowd!

No path is wholly rough.

Love is the only duty that we know.

It is time that outraged public sentiment cry out in detestation of the outrages committed in the name of religion.

Thou canst not force my soul to wish thee ill, That is the only evil that can kill.

I'm sorry for the anguished hearts that break with passion's strain, But I'm sorrier for the poor starved souls that never knew love's pain, Who hunger on through barren years not tasting joys they crave, For sadder far is such a lot than weeping o'er a grave.

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.