Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream, And scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by? ---"On death

I never can feel certain of any truth, but from a clear perception of its beauty.

I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for their religion-- I have shuddered at it, I shudder no more. I could be martyred for my religion. Love is my religion and I could die for that. I could die for you. My Creed is Love and you are its only tenet.

I Cannot Exist Without You. I Am Forgetful Of Everything But Seeing You Again.

O let me lead her gently o'er the brook, Watch her half-smiling lips and downward look; O let me for one moment touch her wrist; Let me one moment to her breathing list; And as she leaves me, may she often turn Her fair eyes looking through her locks auburne.

To Sorrow I bade good-morrow, And thought to leave her far away behind; But cheerly, cheerly, She loves me dearly: She is so constant to me, and so kind.

Through the dancing poppies stole A breeze, most softly lulling to my soul.