I love not man the less, but Nature more.
There is a tear for all who die, A mourner o'er the humblest grave.
Between two worlds life hovers like a star, twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge.
Since Eve ate the apple, much depends on dinner.
Though the day of my Destiny 's over, And the star of my Fate hath declined, Thy soft heart refused to discover The faults which so many could find.
The very best of vineyards is the cellar