The Heart Is Its Own Fate.

Dewdrops, Nature's Tears, Which She Sheds In Her Own Breast For The Fair Which Die. The Sun Insists On Gladness; But At Night, When He Is Gone, Poor Nature Loves To Weep.

Write To The Mind And Heart, And Let The Ear Glean After What It Can.

The Death-bed Of A Day, How Beautiful!

Joys Are Bubble-like--what Makes Them Bursts Them Too.

Walk Boldly And Wisely.... There Is A Hand Above That Will Help You On.