We Need To Suffer, That We May

Oh, No! My Heart Can Never Be Again In Lightest Hopes The Same; The Love That Lingers There For Thee Hath More Of Ashes Than Of Flame.

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.

Are We Not Like The Actor Of Old Times, Who Wore His Mask So Long His Face Took Its Likeness?

Politeness, However, Acts The Lady's Maid To Our Thoughts; And They Are Washed, Dressed, Curled, Rouged, And Perfumed, Before They Are Presented To The Public.

In Sad Truth, Half Our Forebodings Of Our Neighbors Are But Our Own Wishes, Which We Are Ashamed To Utter In Any Other Form.