... for, by all the stars That tend thy bidding, I do think the bars That kept my spirit in are burst - that I Am sailing with thee through the dizzy sky! How beautiful thou art!

On a lone winter evening, when the frost Has wrought a silence.

I love you the more in that I believe you had liked me for my own sake and for nothing else.

Death is Life's high meed.

O Solitude! If I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap of murky buildings

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.

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