Is Love A Tender Thing? It Is

The Bitter Past, More Welcome Is The Sweet.

There's Nothing In This World Can Make Me Joy.

Men Prize The Thing Ungained More Than It Is.

I Have Thrust Myself Into This Maze, Haply To Wive And Thrive As Best I May.

Poor And Content, Is Rich And Rich Enough; But Riches, Fineless, Is As Poor As Winter, To Him That Ever Fears He Shall Be Poor.