Beautiful In Form And Feature, Lovely As

The Leaves Of Memory Seemed To Make A Mournful Rustling In The Dark

Enjoy The Spring Of Love And Youth, To Some Good Angel Leave The Rest; For Time Will Teach Thee Soon The Truth, There Are No Birds In Last Year's Nest!

In The Long, Sleepless Watches Of The Night, A Gentle Face The Face Of One Long Dead Looks At Me From The Wall, Where Round Its Head The Night-lamp Casts A Halo Of Pale Light.

When She Had Passed, It Seemed Like The Ceasing Of Exquisite Music.

History Casts Its Shadow Far Into The Land Of Song.