This lass so neat, with smile so sweet, has won my right good will.
Sing, for faith and hope are high. None so true as you and I.
The evil and the good.
Alas! The love of women! It is known to be a lovely and a fearful thing.
It is the one great woe of life, to feel all feeling die.
The woman that deliberates is lost.
Ah me! Love can not be cured by herbs.
Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes.