Father, O Father! What Do We Here

He Who Shall Teach The Child To Doubtthe Rotting Grave Shall Ne'er Get Out.

Love's Secret Never Seek To Tell Thy Love, Love That Never Told Can Be; For The Gentle Wind Doth Move Silently, Invisibly. I Told My Love, I Told My Love, I Told Her All My Heart, Trembling, Cold, In Ghastly Fears. Ah! She Did Depart! Soon After She Was Gone From Me, A Traveller Came By, Silently, Invisibly: He Took Her With A Sigh.

The Tigers Of Wrath Are Wiser Than The Horses Of Instruction.

Where Any View Of Money Exists, Art Cannot Be Carried On.

My Silks And Fine Array, My Smiles And Languished Air, By Love Are Driv'n Away And Mournful Lean Despair Brings Me Yew To Deck My Grave: Such End True Lovers Have.