When We Play The Fool, How Widethe

Music Is God's Gift To Man, The Only Art Of Heaven Given To Earth, The Only Art Of Earth We Take To Heaven.

A Smile Is Ever The Most Bright And Beautiful With A Tear Upon It. What Is The Dawn Without The Dew? The Tear Is Rendered By The Smile Precious Above The Smile Itself.

My Thoughts Are My Company; I Can Bring Them Together, Select Them, Detain Them, Dismiss Them.

I Never Did A Single Wise Thing In The Whole Course Of My Existence, Although I Have Written Many Which Have Been Thought So.

Ah What Avails The Sceptred Race, Ah What The Form Divine! What Every Virtue, Every Grace! Rose Aylmer, All Were Thine. Rose Aylmer, Whom These Wakeful Eyes May Weep, But Never See, A Night Of Memories And Of Sighs I Consecrate To Thee.