I See A Lily On Thy Brow,

With A Great Poet The Sense Of Beauty Overcomes Every Other Consideration, Or Rather Obliterates All Consideration.

There Is A Budding Tomorrow In Midnight.

Bards Of Passion And Of Mirth, Ye Have Left Your Souls On Earth! Have Ye Souls In Heaven Too, Double-lived In Regions New?

I Equally Dislike The Favor Of The Public With The Love Of A Woman - They Are Both A Cloying Treacle To The Wings Of Independence.

A Hope Beyond The Shadow Of A Dream.