One Hates An Author That's

Every Day Confirms My Opinion On The Superiority Of A Vicious Life, And If Virtue Is Not Its Own Reward, I Don't Know Any Other Stipend Annexed To It.

The Busy Have No Time For Tears.

A Change Came O'er The Spirit Of My Dream.

Oh Who Can Tell, Save He Whose Heart Hath Tried.

My Days Are In The Yellow Leaf; The Flowers And Fruits Of Love Are Gone; The Worm, The Canker, And The Grief, Are Mine Alone!