And Out Of Good Still To Find

First Moloch, Horrid King, Besmirched In Blood, Of Human Sacrifice, And Parent's Tears, Though, For The Noise Of Drums And Timbrels Loud, Their Childrens' Cries Unheard, That Passed Through Fire, To His Grim Idol.

So Many Laws Argues So Many Sins.

The Planets In Their Station List'ning Stood.

His Sleep Was Aery Light, From Pure Digestion Bred.

The Olive Grove Of Academe, Plato's Retirement, Where The Attic Bird Trills Her Thick-warbled Notes The Summer Long.