Marriage, from love, like vinegar from wine-- A sad, sour sober beverage--by time Is sharpened from its high celestial flavor Down to a very homely household savor.

Accursed be the city where the laws would stifle nature's!

Where are the forms the sculptor's soul hath seized? In him alone, Can nature show as fair?

Eat, drink and love...the rest is not worth a nickel

Yon Sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight; Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native land-Good Night!

He had kept The whiteness of his soul, and thus men o'er him wept.

He who grown aged in this world of woe, In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life, So that no wonder waits him.