Jealousy Is Love Bed Of Burning Snarl.

There Is Nothing The Body Suffers Which The Soul May Not Profit By.

Behold The Life At Ease; It Drifts, The Sharpened Life Commands Its Course.

Swift Doth Young Love Flee, And We Stand Wakened, Shivering From Our Dream.

I Know Him, February's Thrush, And Loud At Eve He Valentines On Sprays That Paw The Naked Bush Where Soon Will Sprout The Thorns And Bines.

The Most Dire Disaster In Love Is The Death Of Imagination.