A pretty woman is a welcome guest.

For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause for breath, And love itself have rest.

How sweet and soothing is this hour of calm! I thank thee, night! for thou has chased away these horrid bodements which, amidst the throng, I could not dissipate; and with the b ...

Oh! too convincing - dangerously dear - In woman's eye the unanswerable tear!