I Have Great Hopes That We Shall

There's Naught, No Doubt, So Much The Spirit Calms As Rum And True Religion.

Italia! O Italia! Thou Who Hast The Fatal Gift Of Beauty.

Oh Who Can Tell, Save He Whose Heart Hath Tried.

A Mistress Never Is Nor Can Be A Friend. While You Agree, You Are Lovers; And When It Is Over, Anything But Friends.

The Cold, The Changed, Perchance The Dead, Anew, The Mourn'd, The Loved, The Lost,-too Many, Yet How Few!