I see a lily on thy brow, With anguish moist and fever dew; And on thy cheek a fading rose Fast withereth too.

Some say the world is a vale of tears, I say it is a place of soul-making.

We have woven a web, you and I, attached to this world but a separate world of our own invention.

To one who has been long in city pent, ’Tis very sweet to look into the fair And open face of heaven, — to breathe a prayer Full in the smile of the blue firmament.

And how they kist each other's tremulous eyes.

I have had a thousand kisses, for which with my whole soul I thank love—but if you should deny me the thousand and first—‘t would put me to the proof how great a misery I could live through.

A little noiseless noise among the leaves, Born of the very sigh that silence heaves.