There's No Dew Left On The Daisies

Youth! Youth! How Buoyant Are Thy Hopes! They Turn, Like Marigolds, Toward The Sunny Side.

I Have Lived To Thank God That All My Prayers Have Not Been Answered.

O Woman! Thou Wert Fashioned To Beguile: So Have All Sages Said, All Poets Sung.

It Is A Comely Fashion To Be Glad; Joy Is The Grace We Say To God.

The Moon Is Bleached As White As Wool, And Just Dropping Under; Every Star Is Gone But Three, And They Hang Far Asunder,-- There's A Sea-ghost All In Gray, A Tall Shape Of Wonder!