Many A Crown Covers Bald Foreheads.

Experience, Like A Pale Musician, Holds A Dulcimer Of Patience In His Hand.

Earth May Embitter, Not Remove, The Love Divinely Given; And E'en That Mortal Grief Shall Prove The Immortality Of Love, And Lead Us Nearer Heaven.

A Great Acacia, With Its Slender Trunk And Overpoise Of Multitudinous Leaves. (in Which A Hundred Fields Might Spill Their Dew And Intense Verdure, Yet Find Room Enough) Stood Reconciling All The Place With Green.

Of Writing Many Books There Is No End.

When We First Met And Loved, I Did Not Build Upon The Event With Marble. . . .