When true hearts lie wither'd And fond ones are flown, Oh, who would inhabit This bleak world alone? - Thomas Moore

And the best of all ways
To lengthen our days
Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!

'T is sweet to think that where'er we rove
We are sure to find something blissful and dear;
And that when we 're far from the lips we love,
We've but to make love to the lips we are near.

No, the heart that has truly lov'd never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close;
As the sunflower turns on her god when he sets
The same look which she turn'd when he rose.