Time is the life of the soul.
It is autumn; not without But within me is the cold. Youth and spring are all about; It is I that have grown old.
I will be a man among men; and no longer a dreamer among shadows.
The leaves of memory seemed to make A mournful rustling in the dark
Music is the universal language of mankind.
As to the pure mind all things are pure, so to the poetic mind all things are poetical.