Next To Dressing For A Rout Or

The Great Art Of Life Is Sensation, To Feel That We Exist, Even In Pain.

So Bright The Tear In Beauty's Eye, Love Half Regrets To Kiss It Dry.

What Exile From Himself Can Flee? To Zones, Though More And More Remote, Still, Still Pursues, Where'er I Be, The Blight Of Life--the Demon Thought.

You Gave Me The Key To Your Heart, My Love, Then Why Did You Make Me Knock?

With Thee All Tales Are Sweet; Each Clime Has Charms; Earth - Sea Alike - Our World Within Our Arms.