Beauty Without The Beloved Is A Like

The Worst Moment For The Atheist Is When He Is Really Thankful And Has Nobody To Thank.

It Is Beautiful, The World, And Life Itself. I Am Glad I Have Lived.

I Am Not As These Are, The Poet Saithin Youth's Pride, And The Painter, Among Menat Bay, Where Never Pencil Comes Nor Pem

From Perfect Grief There Need Not Bewisdom Or Even Memory;one Thing Then Learned Remains To Me -the Woodspurge Has A Cup Of Three.

Tell Me Now In What Hidden Way Islady Flora The Lovely Roman?where's Hipparchia, And Where Is Thais,neither Of Them The Fairer Woman?where Is Echo, Beheld Of No Man,only Heard On River And Mere-she Whose Beauty Was More Than Human?-but Where Are The Snows Of Yester-year?