I Have Seen The Day Of Wrong

In Thy Foul Throat Thou Liest.

All Things That We Ordained Festival Turn From Their Office To Black Funeral-- Our Instruments To Melancholy Bells, Our Wedding Cheer To A Sad Burial Feast; Our Solemn Hymns To Sullen Dirges Change; Our Bridal Flowers Serve For A Buried Corse; And All Things Change Them To The Contrary.

Having Nothing, Nothing Can He Lose.

Every Thing That Grows / Holds In Perfection But A Little Moment.

Look, What A Horse Should Have He Did Not Lack, Save A Proud Rider On His Back.