The Sky Is Filled With Stars, Invisible

The Atmosphere Breathes Rest And Comfort, And The Many Chambers Seem Full Of Welcomes.

Talk Not Of Wasted Affection - Affection Never Was Wasted.

White Swan Of Cities Slumbering In Thy Nest . . . White Phantom City, Whose Untrodden Streets Are Rivers, And Whose Pavements Are The Shifting Shadows Of The Palaces And Strips Of Sky.

For Bells Are The Voice Of The Church; They Have Tones That Touch And Search The Hearts Of Young And Old.

The World Loves A Spice Of Wickedness.