The Gentle Wind, A Sweet And Passionate

Listen My Children And You Shall Hear, Of The Midnight Ride Of Paul Revere

No One Is So Accursed By Fate, No One So Utterly Desolate, But Some Heart Though Unknown Responds Unto His Own.

Evil Is Only Good Perverted.

The Trees Are White With Dust, That O'er Their Sleep Wave Their Broad Curtains In The South-wind's Breath, While Underneath Such Leafy Tents They Keep The Long, Mysterious Exodus Of Death.

All Things Must Change To Something New, To Something Strange.