New Angel Mine, Unhoped For In The

Oh, A Day In The City-square, There Is No Such Pleasure In Life!

Yes, I Answered You Last Night; No, This Morning, Sir, I Say: Colors Seen By Candle-light Will Not Look The Same By Day.

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.

For None Can Express Thee, Though All Should Approve Thee. I Love Thee So, Dear, That I Only Can Love Thee.

Folded Eyes See Brighter Colors Than The Open Ever Do.