Not what we would, but what we must Makes up the sum of living; Heaven is both more and less than just In taking and in giving.

Joy may be a miser, But Sorrow's purse is free.

A face at the window, A tap on the pane; Who is it that wants me To-night in the rain?

There are gains for all our losses, There are balms for all our pain: But when youth, the dream, departs, It takes something from our hearts, And it never come…