Music, The Mosaic Of The Air.

But At My Back I Always Hear Time's Winged Chariot Hurrying Near.

This Indigested Vomit Of The Sea,fell To The Dutch By Just Propriety.

Gather The Flowers, But Spare The Buds.

Though I Carry Always Some Ill-nature About Me, Yet It Is, I Hope, No More Than Is In This World Necessary For A Preservative.

Annihilating All That's Made, To A Green Thought In A Green Shade.