"I have play'd the fool, the gross fool, to believe The bosom of a friend will hold a secret Mine own could not contain."

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The dream on the pillow, That flits with the day, The leaf of the willow A breath wears away; The dust on the blossom, The spray on the sea; Ay,--ask thine own bosom-- Are emblems of thee.

— Letitia Elizabeth Landon