Gone, Glimmering Through The Dream Of Things

By Heaven! It Is A Splendid Sight To See For One Who Hath No Friend, No Brother There.

There Is Something Pagan In Me That I Cannot Shake Off. In Short, I Deny Nothing, But Doubt Everything.

A Woman Being Never At A Loss... The Devil Always Sticks By Them.

Oh, Talk Not To Me Of A Name Great In Story; The Days Of Our Youth Are The Days Of Our Glory; And The Myrtle And Ivy Of Sweet Two-and-twenty Are Worth All Your Laurels, Though Ever So Plenty.

No More We Meet In Yonder Bowers Absence Has Made Me Prone To Roving; But Older, Firmer Hearts Than Ours, Have Found Monotony In Loving.