Hope Is The Struggle Of The Soul,

At Length I Fell Asleep, With The Volume In My Hand; And Never Slept So Sound Before

Nature Is Nobody's Ally.

The Phantom-host Has Faded Quite, Splendor And Terror Gone-- Portent Or Promise--and Gives Way To Pale, Meek Dawn.

Indolence Is Heaven 's Ally Here, And Energy The Child Of Hell : The Good Man Pouring From His Pitcher Clear But Brims The Poisoned Well.

There Is Nothing Namable But That Some Men Will, Or Undertake To, Do It For Pay.