I Loved My Country, And

I've Seen Your Stormy Seas And Stormy Women, And Pity Lovers Rather More Than Seamen.

Tis Sweet To Listen As The Night Winds Creep From Leaf To Leaf.

Oh, Talk Not To Me Of A Name Great In Story; The Days Of Our Youth Are The Days Of Our Glory; And The Myrtle And Ivy Of Sweet Two-and-twenty Are Worth All Your Laurels, Though Ever So Plenty.

Friendship May, And Often Does, Grow Into Love, But Love Never Subsides Into Friendship.

But As To Women, Who Can Penetrate The Real Sufferings Of Their She Condition? Man's Very Sympathy With Their Estate Has Much Of Selfishness And More Suspicion. Their Love, Their Virtue, Beauty, Education, But Form Good Housekeepers, To Breed A Nation.