Asleep In Lap Of Legends Old.

She Press'd His Hand In Slumber; So Once More He Could Not Help But Kiss Her And Adore.

Even Bees, The Little Almsmen Of Spring Bowers, Know There Is Richest Juice In Poison-flowers.

When Old Age Shall This Generation Waste, Thou Shalt Remain, In Midst Of Other Woe Than Ours, A Friend To Man, To Whom Thou Say'st, "beauty Is Truth, Truth Beauty," - That Is All Ye Know On Earth, And All Ye Need To Know.

A Little Noiseless Noise Among The Leaves, Born Of The Very Sigh That Silence Heaves.

I Would Sooner Fail Than Not Be Among The Greatest.