Oh, No! My Heart Can Never Be

I Can Pass Days Stretch'd In The Shade Of Those Old Cedar Trees, Watching The Sunshine Like A Blessing Fall,-- The Breeze Like Music Wandering O'er The Boughs, Each Tree A Natural Harp,--each Different Leaf A Different Note, Blent In One Vast Thanksgiving.

The Truth Is, We Never Make For Others The Allowance We Make For Ourselves; And We Should Deny Even Our Own Words, Could We Hear Them Spoken By Another.

But Ignorance Is Happiness,when Young Hope Is To Show The Way

There Is The Cause For Pleasure And For Pain: But Music Moves Us, And We Know Not Why? We Feel The Tears, But Cannot Trace Their Source. Is It The Language Of Some Other State, Born Of Its Memory! For What Can Wake The Soul's Strong Instinct Of Another World, Like Music！

Enthusiasm Is The Divine Particle In Our Composition: With It We Are Great, Generous, And True; Without It, We Are Little, False, And Mean.