He Who Has Most Of Heart Knows

Night Comes, World-jewelled, . . . The Stars Rush Forth In Myriads As To Wage War With The Lines Of Darkness; And The Moon, Pale Ghost Of Night, Comes Haunting The Cold Earth After The Sun's Red Sea-death--quietless.

Lips Like Rosebuds Peeping Out Of Snow.

Error Is Worse Than Ignorance.

Death Is Another Life.

I Am Tired Of Looking On What Is, One Might As Well See Beauty Never More, As Look Upon It With An Empty Eye. I Would This World Were Over. I Am Tired.