The Bird A Nest, The Spider A

I Went To The Garden Of Love, And Saw What I Never Had Seen: A Chapel Was Built In The Midst, Where I Used To Play On The Green. And The Gates Of This Chapel Were Shut, And 'thou Shalt Not' Writ Over The Door; So I Turn'd To The Garden Of Love, That So Many Sweet Flowers Bore. And I Saw It Was Filled With Graves, And Tomb-stones Where Flowers Should Be: And Priests In Black Gowns, Were Walking Their Rounds, And Binding With Briars, My Joys & Desires.

Where There Is Money There Is No Art.

How Have You Left The Ancient Love That Bards Of Old Enjoyed In You! The Languid Strings Do Scarcely Move! The Sound Is Forced, The Notes Are Few!

Gratitude Is Heaven Itself.

Prepare Your Hearts For Death's Cold Hand! Prepare Your Souls For Flight, Your Bodies For The Earth; Prepare Your Arms For Glorious Victory; Prepare Your Eyes To Meet A Holy God! Prepare, Prepare!