How Much Shall I Be Changed, Before

I Long To Talk With Some Old Lover's Ghost, Who Died Before The God Of Love Was Born.

I Observe The Physician With The Same Diligence As The Disease.

I Sing The Progress Of A Deathless Soul.

O Lord, Never Suffer Us To Think That We Can Stand By Ourselves, And Not Need Thee.

At The Round Earth's Imagined Corners, Blow Your Trumpets, Angels.