Their woes gone by, and both to heaven upflown, To bow for gratitude before Jove's throne.
I Cannot Exist Without You. I Am Forgetful Of Everything But Seeing You Again.
Four seasons fill the measure of the year; there are four seasons in the minds of men.
In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity.
The days of peace and slumberous calm are fled.
Failure is, in a sense, the highway to success.