For Mother's Sake The Child Was Dear,

Swiftly, Swiftly Flew The Ship, Yet She Sailed Softly Too: Sweetly, Sweetly Blew The Breeze - On Me Alone It Blew.

I May Not Hope From Outward Forms To Win / The Passion And The Life, Whose Fountains Are Within.

Some Men Are Like Musical Glasses; To Produce Their Finest Tones You Must Keep Them Wet.

And Though Thou Notest From Thy Safe Recess Old Friends Burn Dim, Like Lamps In Noisome Air Love Them For What They Are; Nor Love Them Less, Because To Thee They Are Not What They Were.

The Man Hath Penance Done, And Penance More Will Do.