For The Night Shows Stars And Women

Fair Greece! Sad Relic Of Departed Worth! Immortal, Though No More! Though Fallen, Great!

With Flowing Tail And Flying Mane, Wide Nostrils Never Stretched By Pain, Mouth Bloodless To Bit Or Rein, And Feet That Iron Never Shod, And Flanks Unscar'd By Spur Or Rod, A Thousand Horses - The Wild - The Free - Like Waves That Follow O'er The Sea, Came Thickly Thundering On.

As Soon Seek Roses In December, Ice In June, Hope Constancy In Wind, Or Corn In Chaff Believe A Woman Or An Epitaph Or Any Other Thing That’s False Before You Trust In Critics.

This Is To Be Along; This, This Is Solitude!

Sighing That Nature Formed But One Such Man, And Broke The Die.