Such ever was love's way: to rise, it stoops.

There is no truer truth obtainable by Man than comes of music

O woman-country! wooed not wed, Loved all the more by earth's male-lands, Laid to their hearts instead.

When a man's busy, why leisure Strikes him as wonderful pleasure: 'Faith, and at leisure once is he? Straightway he wants to be busy.

Are there not, dear Michael, Two points in the adventure of the diver,- One, when a beggar he prepares to plunge; One, when a prince he rises with his pearl? Festus, I plunge.

Sappho survives, because we sing her songs; And Eschylus, because we read his plays!

Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made. Our times are in his hand who saith, 'A whole I planned, youth shows but half; Trust God: See all, nor be afraid!