Books Are Men Of Higher Stature.

A Woman's Always Younger Than A Man At Equal Years.

Will That Light Come Again, As Now These Tears Come...falling Hot And Real!

I Work With Patience, Which Is Almost Power.

I Cannot Speak In Happy Tones; The Tear Drops On My Cheek Show I Am Sad; But I Can Speak Of Grace To Suffer With Submission Meek, Until Made Glad.

I Wish I Were The Lily's Leaf To Fade Upon That Bosom Warm, Content To Wither, Pale And Brief, The Trophy Of Thy Paler Form.