I Never Told My Love Vocally Still.

No Coward Soul Is Mine, No Trembler In The World's Storm-troubled Sphere.

By This Curious Turn Of Disposition I Have Gained The Reputation Of Deliberate Heartlessness; How Undeserved, I Alone Can Appreciate.

Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of, His And Mine Are The Same; And Linton's Is As Different As A Moonbeam From Lightning, Or Frost From Fire

You're Hard To Please: So Many Friends And So Few Cares, And Can't Make Yourself Content.

Worthless As Wither'd Weeds.