He's Just, Your Cousin, Ay, Abhorrently, He'd

Some People Always Sigh In Thanking God.

Earth's Crammed With Heaven.

The Essence Of All Beauty, I Call Love, The Attribute, The Evidence, And End, The Consummation To The Inward Sense Of Beauty Apprehended From Without, I Still Call Love.

For Frequent Tears Have Run; The Colours From My Life.

Guess Now Who Holds Thee?'--'death,' I Said. But, There, The Silver Answer Rang, . . . 'not Death, But Love.