When Death to either shall come - I pray it be first to me.

I know that if odour were visible, as colour is, I'd see the summer garden in rainbow clouds.

My delight and thy delight Walking, like two angels white, In the gardens of the night.

When first we met we did not guess that Love would prove so hard a master.

But I can tell - let truth be told - That love will change in growing old; Though day by day is nought to see, So delicate his motions be.

Beauty being the best of all we know sums up the unsearchable and secret aims of nature.

Unto us all our days are love's anniversaries, each one In turn hath ripened something of our happiness.