Thank You, Darling, For Learning To Play

The Less We Show Our Love To A Woman, Or Please Her Less, And Neglect Our Duty, The More We Trap And Ruin Her Surely, In The Flattering Toils Of Philandery.

Cabbage Soup And Barley. They're Russia's National Food. Both Excellent In Their Way, But A Shade Monotonous.

I’ve Lived To Bury My Desires, And See My Dreams Corrode With Rust; Now All That’s Left Are Fruitless Fires That Burn My Empty Heart To Dust.

I Loved You: And, It May Be, From My Soul The Former Love Has Never Gone Away, But Let It Not Recall To You My Dole; I Wish Not Sadden You In Any Way. I Loved You Silently, Without Hope, Fully, In Diffidence, In Jealousy, In Pain; I Loved You So Tenderly And Truly, As Let You Else Be Loved By Any Man.

I Have Outlasted All Desire, My Dreams And I Have Grown Apart; My Grief Alone Is Left Entire, The Gleamings Of An Empty Heart. The Storms Of Ruthless Dispensation Have Struck My Flowery Garland Numb, I Live In Lonely Desolation And Wonder When My End Will Come. Thus On A Naked Tree-limb, Blasted By Tardy Winter's Whistling Chill, A Single Leaf Which Has Outlasted Its Season Will Be Trembling Still.