You Will Never Age For Me, Nor

We Have Seen Better Days.

The Violence Of Either Grief Or Joy, Their Own Enactures With Themselves Destroy.

I Sat Upon A Promontory, And Heard A Mermaid, On A Dolphin's Back, Uttering Such Dulcet And Harmonious Breath, That The Rude Sea Grew Civil At Her Song; And Certain Stars Shot Madly From Their Spheres, To Hear The Sea-maid's Music.

Where Every Something, Being Blent Together Turns To A Wild Of Nothing.

Oh, Injurious Love, That Respites Me A Life, Whose Very Comfort Is Still A Dying Horror