As falls the dew on quenchless sands, blood only serves to wash ambiti >>
No more we meet in yonder bowers Absence has made me prone to roving; >>
Though women are angels, yet wedlock's the devil. >>
Sorrows are like thunderclouds, in the distance they look black, over >>
There is pleasure in calm remembrance of a past sorrow. >>
Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest, >>
Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest, the tree of knowledge is not the tree of life.