Throw Not My Words Away, As Many

When Trouble Haunts Me, Need I Sigh?no, Rather Smile Away Despair

Old April Wanes, And Her Last Dewy Morn Her Death-bed Steeps In Tears; To Hail The May New Blooming Blossoms Neath The Sun Are Born, And All Poor April's Charms Are Swept Away.

Language Has Not The Power To Speak What Love Indites: The Soul Lies Buried In The Ink That Writes.

Crowded Places, I Shunned Them As Noises Too Rude / And Flew To The Silence Of Sweet Solitude.

If Life Had A Second Edition, How I Would Correct The Proofs.