And Marlowe, Webster, Fletcher, Ben, Whose Fire-hearts

I Would Build A Cloudy House For My Thoughts To Live In; When For Earth Too Fancy-loose And Too Low For Heaven! Hush! I Talk My Dream Aloud - I Build It Bright To See, - I Build It On The Moonlit Cloud, To Which I Looked With Thee.

I Saw, In Gradual Vision Through My Tears, The Sweet, Sad Years, The Melancholy Years, Those Of My Own Life, Who By Turns Had Flung A Shadow Across Me.

Life, Struck Sharp On Death, Makes Awful Lightning.

Oh, A Day In The City-square, There Is No Such Pleasure In Life!

Wall Must Get The Weather Stain Before They Grow The Ivy.