Methinks I will not die quite happy without having seen something of that Rome of which I have read so much.
The summer dawn's reflected hue To purple changed Lock Katrine blue, Mildly and soft the western breeze Just kiss'd the lake, just stirr'd the trees, And the pleased lake, like maiden coy, Trembled but dimpled not for joy.
Mankind — the race would perish did they cease to aid each other.
I will tear this folly from my heart, though every fibre bleed as I rend it away!
November's sky is chill and drear, November's leaf is red and sear.
All is possible for those who dare to die!