My Heart Is Its Own Grave!

The Dream On The Pillow, That Flits With The Day, The Leaf Of The Willow A Breath Wears Away; The Dust On The Blossom, The Spray On The Sea; Ay,--ask Thine Own Bosom-- Are Emblems Of Thee.

Hard Are Life's Early Steps; And But That Youth Is Buoyant, Confident, And Strong In Hope, Men Would Behold Its Threshold, And Despair.

It Is Strange What Society Will Endure From Its Idols.

I Would Give Worlds, Could I Believe One-half That Is Profess'd Me; Affection! Could I Think It Thee, When Flattery Has Caress'd Me.

Society Is Like A Large Piece Of Frozen Water; And Skating Well Is The Great Art Of Social Life.