Woe To The Youth Whom Fancy Gains,

Great Talent Has Always A Little Madness Mixed Up With It.

The Misery Of Keeping A Dog Is His Dying So Soon. But, To Be Sure, If He Lived For Fifty Years And Then Died, What Would Become Of Me?

O Woman! In Our Hours Of Ease Uncertain, Coy, And Hard To Please, And Variable As The Shade By The Light Quivering Aspen Made; When Pain And Anguish Wring The Brow, A Ministering Angel Thou!

I'll Dream No More--by Mainly Mind Not Even In Sleep Is Well Resigned. My Midnight Orisons Said O'er, I'll Turn To Rest And Dream No More.

Affection Can Withstand Very Severe Storms Of Vigor, But Not A Long Polar Frost Of Indifference.