Land And Sea, Weakness And Decline Are

There Was An Awful Rainbow Once In Heaven: We Know Her Woof, Her Texture; She Is Given In The Dull Catalogue Of Common Things. Philosophy Will Clip An Angel's Wings.

Who, Of Men, Can Tell That Flowers Would Bloom, Or That Green Fruit Would Swell To Melting Pulp, That Fish Would Have Bright Mail, The Earth Its Dower Of River, Wood, And Vale, The Meadows Runnels, Runnels Pebble-stones, The Seed Its Harvest, Or The Lute Its Tones, Tones Ravishment, Or Ravishment Its Sweet, If Human Souls Did Never Kiss And Greet?

I Shall Soon Be Laid In The Quiet Grave - Thank God For The Quiet Grave

His Religion At Best Is An Anxious Wish,-like That Of Rabelais, A Great Perhaps.

Now A Soft Kiss - Aye, By That Kiss, I Vow An Endless Bliss.