Though An Angel Should Write, Still 'tis

Romantic Love Is An Illusion. Most Of Us Discover This Truth At The End Of A Love Affair Or Else When The Sweet Emotions Of Love Lead Us Into Marriage And Then Turn Down Their Flames.

Though The Last Glimpse Of Erin With Sorrow I See, Yet Wherever Thou Art Shall Seem Erin To Me; In Exile Thy Bosom Shall Still Be My Home, And Thine Eyes Make My Climate Wherever We Roam.

I Have Plenty Of Machinery Around Me; What I Really Need Is A More Enchanting World In Which To Live And Work.

And The Heart That Is Soonest Awake To The Flowers Is Always The First To Be Touch'd By The Thorns.

I Thought That The Light-house Looked Lovely As Hope, That Star On Life's Tremulous Ocean.