Such Ever Was Love's Way: To Rise,

As If True Pride Were Not Also Humble!

I Hold That A Man Should Strive To The Uttermost For His Life's Set Prize.

What Of Soul Was Left, I Wonder, When The Kissing Had To Stop?

Men Are Not Angels, Neither Are They Brutes.

The Rain Set Early In Tonight, The Sullen Wind Was Soon Awake, It Tore The Elm-tops Down For Spite, And Did Its Best To Vex The Lake: I Listened With Heart Fit To Break. When Glided In Porphyria; Straight She Shut The Cold Out And The Storm, And Kneeled And Made The Cheerless Grate Blaze Up And All The Cottage Warm.