I wish I was either in your arms full of faith, or that a Thunder bolt would strike me.
Life is but a day; A fragile dewdrop on its perilous way From a tree's summit.
O for the gentleness of old Romance, the simple planning of a minstrel's song!
He ne'er is crowned with immortality Who fears to follow where airy voices lead.
Some say the world is a vale of tears, I say it is a place of soul-making.
Works of genius are the first things in the world.