Music, When Soft Voices Die Vibrates In

All High Poetry Is Infinite; It Is As The First Acorn, Which Contained All Oaks Potentially.

We Are All Greeks. Our Laws, Our Literature, Our Religion, Our Arts, Have Their Root In Greece.

Heaven's Ebon Vault Studded With Stars Unutterably Bright, Through Which The Moon's Unclouded Grandeur Rolls, Seems Like A Canopy Which Love Has Spread To Curtain Her Sleeping World.

The Sunlight Claps The Earth, And The Moonbeams Kiss The Sea: What Are All These Kissings Worth, If Thou Kiss Not Me?

The Cloud Shadows Of Midnight Possess Their Own Repose.