Dream, dream, for this is also sooth.

A thought Of that late death took all my heart for speech.

When we have blamed the wind we can blame love.

And many a poor man that has roved Loved and thought himself beloved From a glad kindness cannot take his eyes.

THOUGH you are in your shining days, Voices among the crowd And new friends busy with your praise, Be not unkind or proud, But think about old friends the most: Time's bitter flood will rise, Your beauty perish and be lost For all eyes but these eyes.

Life is a long preparation for something that never happens.

Talent perceives differences; genius, unity.