For Beauty's Tears Are Lovelier Than Her

Beauty's Witching Sway Is Now To Me A Star That's Fallen-a Dream That's Passed Away.

To Live In Hearts We Leave Behind Is Not To Die.

An Original Something, Dear Maid, You Would Wish Me To Write; But How Shall I Begin? For I'm Sure I Have Not Original In Me, Excepting Original Sin.

What Though My Winged Hours Of Bliss Have Been, Like Angel Visits, Few And Far Between.

I'll Meet The Raging Of The Skies, But Not An Angry Father.