No Blessed Leisure For Love Or Hope,

I Love Thee - I Love Thee, 'tis All That I Can Say, It Is My Vision In The Night, My Dreaming In The Day.

But Evil Is Wrought By Want Of Thought, As Well As Want Of Heart!

The Moon, The Moon, So Silver And Cold, Her Fickle Temper Has Oft Been Told, Now Shade--now Bright And Sunny-- But Of All The Lunar Things That Change, The One That Shows Most Fickle And Strange, And Takes The Most Eccentric Range, Is The Moon--so Called--of Honey!

I Resolved That, Like The Sun, As Long As My Day Lasted, I Would Look On The Bright Side Of Everything.

Pity It Is To Slay The Meanest Thing.