All our pride is but a jest. None are worst and none are best. Grief and hope and joy and fear Play their pageant everywhere.
Never love unless you can bear with all the faults of man!
There is a garden in her eyes, where roses and white lilies flow.
A prudent pharmacist often vends something for your complaint. But wine merchant you do this invariably.
Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow.
Kind are her answers, But her performance keeps no day; Breaks time, as dancers. From their own Music when they stray.