It doesn't much signify whom one marries, for one is sure to find next morning that it was someone else.
To know her was to love her.
Gentle to others, to himself severe.
Sweet Memory! wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail.
Those that he loved so long and sees no more, Loved and still loves,-not dead, but gone before,- He gathers round him.
When with care we have raised an imaginary treasure of happiness, we find at last that the materials of the structure are frail and perishing, and the foundation itself is laid in the sand.