God Will Forgive Me. It's His Job.

Glow-worms On The Ground Are Moving, As If In The Torch-dance Circling.

Graves They Say Are Warm'd By Glory; Foolish Words And Empty Story.

I Will Not Say That Women Have No Character; Rather, They Have A New One Every Day.

The Butterfly Long Loved The Beautiful Rose, And Flirted Around All Day; While Round Him In Turn With Her Golden Caress, Soft Fluttered The Sun's Warm Ray.... I Know Not With Whom The Rose Was In Love, But I Know That I Loved Them All. The Butterfly, Rose, And The Sun's Bright Ray, The Star And The Bird's Sweet Call.

We Should Forgive Our Enemies, But Not Before They Are Hanged