Were All The Letters Sun, I Could

O For A Horse With Wings!

So Well Thy Words Become Thee As Thy Wounds.

Yet Who Would Have Thought The Old Man To Have Had So Much Blood In Him? - Lady Macbeth

Fairies, Black, Grey, Green, And White, You Moonshine Revellers, And Shades Of Night, You Orphan Heirs Of Fixed Destiny, Attend Your Office And Your Quality.

Look To Her, Moor, If Thou Has Eyes To See. She Has Deceived Her Father, And May Thee.