'tis Very Certain The Desire

When We Two Parted In Silence And Tears, Half Broken-hearted, To Sever For Years.

I Shall Soon Be Six-and-twenty. Is There Anything In The Future That Can Possibly Console Us For Not Being Always Twenty-five?

Eat, Drink And Love...the Rest Is Not Worth A Nickel

He Who Is Only Just Is Cruel; Who Upon The Earth Would Live Were All Judged Justly?

And I Would Hear Yet Once Before I Perish The Voice Which Was My Music... Speak To Me!