The Gloomy Shade Of Death.

At Once, Good Night- Stand Not Upon The Order Of Your Going, But Go At Once.

No Metal Can--no, Not The Hangman's Axe--bear Half The Keenness Of Thy Sharp Envy.

There's Rosemary And Rue. These Keep Seeming And Savor All The Winter Long. Grace And Remembrance Be To You.

Good Morrow, Fair Ones; Pray You, If You Know, Where In The Purlieus Of This Forest Stands A Sheep-cote Fenc'd About With Olive Trees?

A Golden Mind Stoops Not To Shows Of Dross.