Seas Wept From Our Deep Sorrows.

And The Earth Self-balanced On Her Centre Hung.

Virtue That Wavers Is Not Virtue.

Thus I Set My Printless Feet O'er The Cowslip's Velvet Head, That Bends Not As I Tread.

The Strongest And The Fiercest Spirit That Fought In Heaven, Now Fiercer By Despair.

Did I Request Thee, Maker, From My Clay To Mould Me Man? Did I Solicit Thee From Darkness To Promote Me?