He Who Makes His Law A Curse,

My Mother Bore Me In The Southern Wild, And I Am Black, But O! My Soul Is White; White As An Angel Is The English Child, But I Am Black As If Bereaved Of Light.

Mere Enthusiasm Is The All In All.

Thou Art A Man God Is No More Thy Own Humanity Learn To Adore

Why Cannot The Ear Be Closed To Its Own Destruction? Or The Glistening Eye To The Poison Of A Smile?

To Cast Aside From Poetry, All That Is Not Inspiration