And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.

People would rather sleep In their bed of nails rather than in my bed of flowers simply because a few flowers had thorns.

The light, that lies In woman's eyes, Has been my heart's undoing.

Ye field flowers! the gardens eclipse you 'tis true: Yet wildings of nature, I dote upon you, For ye waft me to summers of old, When the earth teem'd around me with fairy delight, And when daisies and buttercups gladden'd my sight, Like treasures of silver and gold.

The heart that has truly loved never forgets, But as truly loves on to the close.

The happy bells shall ring Marguerite; The summer birds shall sing Marguerite; You smile but you shall wear Orange blossoms in your hair, Marguerite.