Four Seasons Fill The Measure Of The

I Am In That Temper That If I Were Under Water I Would Scarcely Kick To Come To The Top.

... The Open Sky Sits Upon Our Senses Like A Sapphire Crown - The Air Is Our Robe Of State - The Earth Is Our Throne, And The Sea A Mighty Minstrel Playing Before It.

The Thought, The Deadly Thought Of Solitude.

She Press'd His Hand In Slumber; So Once More He Could Not Help But Kiss Her And Adore.

'tis The Witching Hour Of Night, Orbed Is The Moon And Bright. And The Stars They Glisten, Glisten, Seeming With Bright Eyes To Listen- For What Listen They?