Fame Is A Bee It Has A

If Aims Impel These Astral Ones The Ones Allowed To Know Know That Which Makes Them As Forgot As Dawn Forgets Them Now

Beauty Is Not The Cause Of Something, It Is What It Is.

Not One Of All The Purple Host Who Took The Flag To-day Can Tell The Definition So Clear Of Victory, As He, Defeated, Dying, On Whose Forbidden Ear The Distant Strains Of Triumph Break Agonized And Clear.

A Great Hope Fell You Heard No Noise The Ruin Was Within.

Presentiment Is That Long Shadow On The Lawn Indicative That Suns Go Down; The Notice To The Startled Grass That Darkness Is About To Pass.