Let Us Open Our Leaves Like A

The Genius Of Shakespeare Was An Innate University.

Ay, On The Shores Of Darkness There Is A Light, And Precipices Show Untrodden Green; There Is A Budding Morrow In Midnight; There Is Triple Sight In Blindness Keen.

There Is Nothing Stable In The World; Uproar's Your Only Music.

Tall Oaks Branch Charmed By The Earnest Stars Dream And So Dream All Night Without A Stir.

I Almost Wish We Were Butterflies And Liv'd But Three Summer Days - Three Such Days With You I Could Fill With More Delight Than Fifty Common Years Could Ever Contain.