George Henry Boker

"Lovers are Like walking ghosts, they always haunt the spot Of their misdeeds."

"Love is that orbit of the restless soul Whose circle grazes the confines of space, Bounding within the limits of its race Utmost extremes."

"Freedom!" their battle-cry,— "Freedom! or leave to die!"

"Fold him in his country's stars, Roll the drum and fire the volley! What to him are all our wars, What but death bemocking folly?"