Lord Of Himself; That Heritage Of Woe!

Know Ye The Land Where The Cypress And Myrtle Are Emblems Of Deeds That Are Done In Their Clime? Where The Rage Of The Vulture, The Love Of The Turtle, Now Melt Into Sorrow, Now Madden To Crime!

Christians Have Burnt Each Other, Quite Persuaded. That All The Apostles Would Have Done As They Did.

I Die But First I Have Possessed, And Come What May, I Have Been Blessed.

The Busy Have No Time For Tears.

Parting Day Dies Like The Dolphin, Whom Each Pang Imbues With A New Colour As It Gasps Away, The Last Still Loveliest, Till-'t Is Gone, And All Is Gray.