More than much pleasure. Let her will
Be done—to weep or not to weep.
Words weaker than your grief, would make
Grief more. ’Twere better I should cease;
Altho’ myself could almost take
The place of him that sleeps in peace.
Tennyson.
We overstate the ills of life, and take
Imagination, given us to bring down
The choirs of singing angels, overshone