I See Before Me The

The Thorns Which I Have Reap'd Are Of The Tree I Planted; They Have Torn Me, And I Bleed. I Should Have Known What Fruit Would Spring From Such A Seed.

What's Drinking? A Mere Pause From Thinking!

Eternity Forbids Thee To Forget.

I Had A Dream, Which Was Not At All A Dream.

Still From The Fount Of Joy's Delicious Springs Some Bitter O'er The Flowers Its Bubbling Venom Flings.