Thro’ troubled days that gloomily hang,
Thro’ dreary songs I wearily sing,
May the gods help me be not depress’d;
But set my poor mind at peaceful rest!
Let not my reasoning be a mess!

My stormy mind cannot concentrate.
I may even confuse love with hate.
I feel the ******* world closing in!
My poor nerves are rattled by the din!
Is all the noise without or within?

Real peace is not found in worldly state!
Nor is true joy on a golden plate!

Never have I felt so gay,
Never have I felt so happy;
Gone are the tests today,
Oh, what a happy memory!
Gone are the tests that I loathe,
Gone, gone are they forever,
Ne’er are my feelings better,
Oh, what a day to remember!
My heart sings my thankfulness,
My face shows my joy,
My legs jump for happiness,
Most found in a boy!
Ne’er have I felt like this before
Oh, so very light and gay,
Oh, my heart used to be so sore,
As goes and passes each day!
What is better to remember
Than a test that has gone by?
But yet, yet, all is not over,
The results may make me cry!

I know not whether I’m crazy,
To love you with such fire;
There is in you a quality
I cease not to admire.
Characters are sent from heaven,
Tho’ not all be heav’nly;
But all virtues are God-given –
Pray, sweet angel, tarry!
Write I like a fool, blind in love,
These last hours of your stay?
Let our messenger be the dove
When you are gone away.
There is in you a quality,
None to you must reveal;
Lest false superficiality
The Truth decides to steal.
Virtue should not be self-conscious,
Or ‘tis Hypocrisy;
May all your friends deem you precious –
Tho’ why, they cannot see.

Far out in the ocean,
I saw my lover waving to me;
Her hair flew in the wind;
Oh, her smile was sweet as could be!

As I stood on the shore,
The parting seemed like a dream to me;
Soon I was unable,
To distinguish my love from the sea.

Smaller and smaller grew,
The huge grand liner against the blue;
Yet was the little hand
Waving, waving its tearful adieu.

Oh, sweet little sister,
So very close and dear to my heart!
It was a sad dreamer,
Who realised that Death had shot its dart!

Oh, sweet little sister,
You dwell sadly in my memory;
You walk the earth no more,
But your voice I hear, your image see.

If my house be but a garden,
I’ll love it more than gold;
I’ll make it pretty like Eden,
One you’ll smile to behold.

The sun shall rise in the morning;
The moon shall shine by night
And dewdrops shall be adorning
The wonders in your sight.

The flowers shall dance in harmony
With playful butterflies,
And songs like those in Italy
Shall flood the evening skies!

I will make it look like Eden;
I’ll hear the wild bird’s call.
Oh, if I have but a garden,
I’ll need no house at all!

It is not you I really need;
Riches and fame are what you seek.
Person who loves in order to gain fame,
Which is the thing that wipes out a good name!

See if what I have written is true;
Think it over and be more careful.
I love _ _ more than you;
Thank you, good-day and adieu!

Your eyes showeth truth,
Full of amends;
But your heart is like a stone,
Causing others offence.

Your eyes showeth pity,
But your heart is like a stone;
So what is the use of sympathy,
In your eyes alone?