Life Seems Like A Haunted Wood, Where

A Garden That One Makes Oneself Becomes Associated With One’s Personal History And That Of One’s Friends, Interwoven With One’s Tastes, Preferences And Character And Constitutes A Sort Of Unwritten Autobiography.

Faded Smiles Oft Linger In The Face, While Grief's First Flakes Fall Silent On The Heart!

He Is Dead Already Who Doth Not Feel Life Is Worth Living Still.

Is Life Worth Living? Yes, So Long As Spring Revives The Year, And Hails Us With The Cuckoo's Song, To Show That She Is Here.

Falling Stars Are High Examples Sent To Warn, Not Lure. Gross Fancy Says They Are Substantial Meteors; But That Is Not So. They Are The Merest Phantasies Of Night, When She's Asleep, And, Dimly Visited By Past Effects, She Dreams Of Lucifer Hurled Out Of Heaven.