I'm Wearying To Escape Into That Glorious

If He Loved With All The Powers Of His Puny Being, He Couldn't Love As Much In Eighty Years As I Could In A Day.

Tis Moonlight, Summer Moonlight, All Soft And Still And Fair; The Solemn Hour Of Midnight Breathes Sweet Thoughts Everywhere, But Most Where Trees Are Sending Their Breezy Boughs On High, Or Stooping Low Are Lending A Shelter From The Sky. And There In Those Wild Bowers A Lovely Form Is Laid; Green Grass And Dew-steeped Flowers Wave Gently Round Her Head.

It Was Not The Thorn Bending To The Honeysuckles, But The Honeysuckles Embracing The Thorn.

Sweet Love Of Youth, Forgive, If I Forget Thee, While The World's Tide Is Bearing Me Along; Sterner Desires And Darker Hopes Beset Me, Hopes Which Obscure, But Cannot Do Thee Wrong.

Shall Earth No More Inspire Thee, Thou Lonely Dreamer Now?