Full Lasting Is The Song, Though He,

It Is The Devil's Masterstroke To Get Us To Accuse Him

Darker Grows The Valley, More And More Forgetting: So Were It With Me If Forgetting Could Be Willed. Tell The Grassy Hollow That Holds The Bubbling Well-spring, Tell It To Forget The Source That Keeps It Filled.

Lowly, With A Broken Neck, The Crocus Lays Her Cheek To Mire.

Heiresses Are Never Jilted.

How Many A Thing Which We Cast To The Ground, When Others Pick It Up, Becomes A Gem!