I Do Think Better Of Womankind Than

Health Is The Greatest Of Blessings - With Health And Hope We Should Be Content To Live.

All Clean And Comfortable I Sit Down To Write.

Let Us Away, My Love, With Happy Speed; There Are No Ears To Hear, Or Eyes To See, - Drown'd All In Rhenish And The Sleepy Mead. Awake! Arise! My Love And Fearless Be, For O'er The Southern Moors I Have A Home For Thee.

When The Melancholy Fit Shall Fall Sudden From Heaven Like A Weeping Cloud, That Fosters The Droop-headed Flowers All, And Hides The Green Hill In An April Shroud; Then Glut Thy Sorrow On A Morning Rose.

And Shade The Violets, That They May Bind The Moss In Leafy Nets.