Our Love Is Principle, And Has Its

'tis Liberty Alone That Gives The Flower Of Fleeting Life Its Lustre And Perfume; And We Are Weeds Without It.

But What Is Truth? 'twas Pilate's Question Put To Truth Itself, That Deign'd Him No Reply.

All Zeal For A Reform, That Gives Offence To Peace And Charity, Is Mere Pretence.

What Is There In The Vale Of Lifehalf So Delightful As A Wife;when Friendship, Love And Peace Combineto Stamp The Marriage-bond Divine?

O Winter, Ruler Of The Inverted Year!