When A Lady Condescends To Apologise, There

I Love The Silent Hour Of Night, For Blissful Dreams May Then Arise, Revealing To My Charmed Sight What May Not Bless My Waking Eyes.

His Heart Was Like A Sensitive Plant, That Opens For A Moment In The Sunshine, But Curls Up And Shrinks Into Itself At The Slightest Touch Of The Finger, Or The Lightest Breath Of Wind.

But He That Dares Not Grasp The Thorn Should Never Crave The Rose.

In Love Affairs, There Is No Mediator Like A Merry, Simple-hearted Child - Ever Ready To Cement Divided Hearts, To Span The Unfriendly Gulf Of Custom, To Melt The Ice Of Cold Reserve, And Overthrow The Separating Walls Of Dread Formality And Pride.

He Never Could Have Loved Me, Or He Would Not Have Resigned Me So Willingly