Friends should be weighed, not told; who boasts to have won a multitude of friends has never had one. - Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Behold! her bosom and half her side— A sight to dream of, not to tell!

"Most musical, most melancholy" bird!
A melancholy bird! Oh! idle thought!
In nature there is nothing melancholy.
But some night-wandering man, whose heart was pierced
With the remembrance of a grievous wrong,
Or slow distemper, or neglected love,
(And so, poor wretch! filled all things with himself,
And made all gentle sounds tell back the tale
Of his own sorrow) he, and such as he,
First named these notes a melancholy strain.

Since then, at an uncertain hour,
That agony returns:
And till my ghastly tale is told,
This heart within me burns.