Death: The Grand Perhaps.

But How Carve Way I' The Life That Lies Before, If Bent On Groaning Ever For The Past?

What Joy Is Better Than The News Of Friends?

That's The Wise Thrush; He Sings Each Song Twice Over, Lest You Should Think He Never Could Recapture The First Fine Careless Rapture!

Hatred And Cark And Care, What Place Have They / In Yon Blue Liberality Of Heaven?.

Let's Contend No More, Love, Strive Nor Weep: All Be As Before Love, - Only Sleep.