The music, and the banquet, and the wine-- The garlands, the rose odors, and the flowers, The sparkling eyes, and flashing ornaments-- The white arms and the raven hair--the braids, And bracelets; swan-like bosoms, and the necklace, An India in itself, yet dazzling not.

I am about to be married, and am of course in all the misery of a man in pursuit of happiness.

Man marks the earth with ruin - his control stops with the shore.

I love the language, it sounds as if it should be writ on satin with syllables which breathe of the sweet South

Are not the mountains, waves, and skies as much a part of me, as I of them?

In secret we met - In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee? - With silence and tears

Where there is mystery, it is generally suspected there must also be evil.