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Inspiration

I tell thee Love is Nature's second sun.
What have I done? What horrid crime committed?
The bashful virgin's sidelong looks of love.
We grumble a little now and then, to be sure; but there's no love lost between us.

How silver-sweet sound lover's tongues by night.
Hands of invisible spirits touch the strings of that mysterious instrument, the soul.
He who has fostered the sweet poison of love by fondling it, finds it too late to refuse the yoke which he has of his own accord assumed.
But one always returns to one's first loves.



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