the soul of conversation is sympathy
Never wedding, ever wooing, Still a lovelorn heart pursuing, Read you not the wrong you're doing In my cheek's pale hue? All my life with sorrow strewing; Wed or cease to woo.
O star-eyed Science, hast thou wander'd there, To waft us home the message of despair?
O leave this barren spot to me! Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree.
The smaller your reality, the more convinced you are that you know everything.
Ye mariners of England! That guard our native seas; Whose flag has braved a thousand years, The battle and the breeze!