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

I love your hills and I love your dales, And I love your flocks a-bleating; but oh, on the heather to lie together, With both our hearts a-beating!

Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music played out of doors by somebody I do not know.

They swayed about upon a rocking horse, And thought it Pegasus.

When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance.

To Hope "When by my solitary hearth I sit, And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom; When no fair dreams before my 'mind's eye' flit, And the bare heath of life presents no bloom; Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed, And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head.

I must choose between despair and Energy──I choose the latter.