But Sad As Angels For

Never Wedding, Ever Wooing, Still A Lovelorn Heart Pursuing, Read You Not The Wrong You're Doing In My Cheek's Pale Hue? All My Life With Sorrow Strewing; Wed Or Cease To Woo.

To Live In The Hearts Of Others Is Not To Die

He Scorn'd His Own, Who Felt Another's Woe.

O Leave This Barren Spot To Me! Spare, Woodman, Spare The Beechen Tree.

On Linden, When The Sun Was Low, All Bloodless Lay The Untrodden Snow, And Dark As Winter Was The Flow Of Iser, Rolling Rapidly.