It Is Better To Will The Good

When The Poet Died His Cat Was Put To Death And Mummified.

The Greater I Am, The Greater Shall Be My Efforts.

Go, Grieving Rimes Of Mine, To That Hard Stone Whereunder Lies My Darling, Lies My Dear, And Cry To Her To Speak From Heaven's Sphere.

He Loves But Lightly Who His Love Can Tell.

Perhaps Out There, Somewhere, Someone Is Sighing For Your Absence; And With This Thought, My Soul Begins To Breathe.