But Ignorance Is Happiness,when Young Hope Is

How Disappointment Tracks The Steps Of Hope.

Ah, Tell Me Not That Memory Sheds Gladness O'er The Past, What Is Recalled By Faded Flowers, Save That They Did Not Last?

Oh, No! My Heart Can Never Be Again In Lightest Hopes The Same; The Love That Lingers There For Thee Hath More Of Ashes Than Of Flame.

How Beautiful, How Buoyant, And Glad Is Morning!

No Thoroughly Occupied Man Was Ever Yet Very Miserable.