The Busy Have No Time For Tears.

In Hope To Merit Heaven By Making Earth A Hell.

But 'midst The Crowd, The Hum, The Shock Of Men, To Hear, To See, To Feel, And To Possess, And Roam Along, The World's Tired Denizen, With None Who Bless Us, None Whom We Can Bless.

There Is Something To Me Very Softening In The Presence Of A Woman, Some Strange Influence, Even If One Is Not In Love With Them, Which I Cannot At All Account For, Having No Very High Opinion Of The Sex. But Yet, I Always Feel In Better Humor With Myself And Every Thing Else, If There Is A Woman Within Ken.

And Doubt And Discord Step 'twixt Thine And Thee.

Maidens, Like Moths, Are Ever Caught, By Glare, And Mammon Wins His Way Where Seraphs Might Despair.