They Address An Eclipse Every Morning, Whom

I Do Not Like The Man Who Squanders Life For Fame; Give Me The Man Who Living Makes A Name.

Grant Me, O Lord, A Sunny Mind-thy Windy Will To Bear!

I Lost A World The Other Day. Has Anybody Found? You'll Know It By The Rows Of Stars Around It's Forehead Bound. A Rich Man Might Not Notice It; Yet To My Frugal Eye Of More Esteem Than Ducats. Oh! Find It, Sir, For Me!

The Heart Asks Pleasure First, And Then, Excuse From Pain; And Then, Those Little Anodynes That Deaden Suffering; And Then, To Go To Sleep; And Then, If It Should Be The Will Of Its Inquisitor, The Liberty To Die.

Afraid? Of Whom Am I Afraid? Not Death. For Who Is He?