A Poet Not In Love Is Out

It Is Sad To See The Light Of Beauty Wane Away, Know Eyes Are Dimming, Bosoms Shrivelling, Feet Losing Their Springs, And Limbs Their Lily Roundness; But It Is Worse To Feel The Heart-spring Gone, To Lose Hope, Care Not For The Coming Thing, And Feel All Things Go To Decay Within Us.

We Live Not To Ourselves, Our Work Is Life.

And These Are Joys, Like Beauty, But Skin Deep.

The Worst Way To Improve The World Is To Condemn It.

Naught But God Can Satisfy The Soul.