Though an angel should write, still 'tis devils must print.
And soon, too soon, we part with pain, To sail o'er silent seas again.
The light, that lies In woman's eyes, Has been my heart's undoing.
Fond memory brings the light of other days around me.
And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.
Like ships that have gone down at sea, when heaven was all tranquillity.
