I Shot An Arrow Into The Air,

Our Pleasures And Our Discontents, Are Rounds By Which We May Ascend.

Burn, O Evening Hearth, And Waken Pleasant Visions, As Of Old! Though The House By Winds Be Shaken, Safe I Keep This Room Of Gold!

Winter Giveth The Fields, And The Trees So Old, Their Beards Of Icicles And Snow.

Often Times We Call A Man [or Woman] Cold When He [or She] Is Only Sad.

Weak Minds Make Treaties With The Passions They Cannot Overcome, And Try To Purchase Happiness At The Expense Of Principle; But The Resolute Will Of A Strong Man Scorns Such Means, And Struggles Nobly With His Foe To Achieve Great Deeds.