Honest People Don't Hide Their Deeds.

Every Leaf Speaks Bliss To Me, Fluttering From The Autumn Tree.

I Pray Every Night That I May Live After Him; Because I Would Rather Be Miserable Than That He Should Be — That Proves I Love Him Better Than Myself.

No Coward Soul Is Mine, No Trembler In The World's Storm-troubled Sphere.

Tis Moonlight, Summer Moonlight, All Soft And Still And Fair; The Solemn Hour Of Midnight Breathes Sweet Thoughts Everywhere, But Most Where Trees Are Sending Their Breezy Boughs On High, Or Stooping Low Are Lending A Shelter From The Sky. And There In Those Wild Bowers A Lovely Form Is Laid; Green Grass And Dew-steeped Flowers Wave Gently Round Her Head.

I Am Now Quite Cured Of Seeking Pleasure In Society, Be It Country Or Town.