My Fears Are Agitated To An Extreme

Tasteful Illumination Of The Night, Bright Scattered, Twinkling Star Of Spangled Earth.

While Snow The Window-panes Bedim, The Fire Curls Up A Sunny Charm, Where, Creaming O'er The Pitcher's Rim, The Flowering Ale Is Set To Warm; Mirth, Full Of Joy As Summer Bees, Sits There, Its Pleasures To Impart, And Children, 'tween Their Parent's Knees, Sing Scraps Of Carols O'er By Heart.

I Long For Scenes Where Man Has Never Trod;... There To Abide With My Creator, God.

Yet Simple Souls, Their Faith It Knows No Stint: Things Least To Be Believed Are Most Preferred. All Counterfeits, As From Truth's Sacred Mint, Are Readily Believed If Once Put Down In Print

I Never Saw So Sweet A Face. As That I Stood Before. My Heart Has Left It Dwelling Place ... And Can Return No More.