An intellectual hate is the worst.
O heart! O heart! if she'd but turn her head You'd know the folly of being comforted.
Things said or done long years ago Or things I did not do or say But thought that I might say or do, Weigh me down, and not a day But something is recalled, My conscience or my vanity appalled.
Homer is my example and his unchristened heart.
When two close kindred meet What better than call a dance?.
O but we dreamed to mend Whatever mischief seemed To afflict mankind, but now That winds of winter blow Learn that we were crack-pated when we dreamed.