Sketch of Connecticut, Forty Years Since — Chapter VI

"Mistake me not for my complexion—The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd Sun,To whom I am a neighbour, and near bred.But prove whose blood is reddest, thine or mine."The Merchant of Venice.

"When the Archangel's trump shall blow,And souls to bodies join,Millions shall wish their lives below,Had been as pure as thine."

"She hated men, because they lov'd not her,And hated women because they were lov'd."