Four Seasons Fill The Measure Of The

O, Sorrow! Why Dost Borrow Heart's Lightness From The Merriment Of May?

Where Are The Songs Of Spring? Aye, Where Are They? Think Not Of Them; Thou Has Thy Music Too.

I Will Imagine You Venus Tonight And Pray, Pray, Pray To Your Star Like A Heathen.

Faded The Flower And All Its Budded Charms,faded The Sight Of Beauty From My Eyes,faded The Shape Of Beauty From My Arms,faded The Voice, Warmth, Whiteness, Paradise!vanishd Unseasonably

I Wish You Could Invent Some Means To Make Me At All Happy Without You. Every Hour I Am More And More Concentrated In You; Everything Else Tastes Like Chaff In My Mouth.