Dead He Is Not, But

When Thou Are Not Pleased, Beloved, Then My Heart Is Sad And Darkened, As The Shining River Darkens When The Clouds Drop Shadows On It! When Thou Smilest, My Beloved, Then My Troubled Heart Is Brightened, As In Sunshine Gleam The Ripples That The Cold Wind Makes In Rivers.

The Twilight Is Sad And Cloudy, The Wind Blows Wild And Free, And Like The Wings Of Sea-birds Flash The White Caps Of The Sea.

Talk Not Of Wasted Affection - Affection Never Was Wasted.

Fear Is The Virtue Of Slaves; But The Heart That Loveth Is Willing.

Nothing With God Can Be Accidental.