Truth Never Hurts The Teller.

Must In Death Your Daylight Finish? My Sun Sets To Rise Again.

There's A New Tribunal Now Higher Than God's -the Educated Man's!

I Know A Mount, The Gracious Sun Perceives First When He Visits, Last, Too, When He Leaves The World; And, Vainly Favored, It Repays The Day-long Glory Of His Steadfast Gaze By No Change Of Its Large Calm Front Of Snow.

Again The Cousin's Whistle! Go, My Love.

I Want To Know A Butcher Paints, A Baker Rhymes For His Pursuit, Candlestick-maker Much Acquaints His Soul With Song, Or, Haply Mute, Blows Out His Brains Upon The Flute.