The Let-alone Lies Not In Your Good

If I Must Die, I Will Encounter Darkness As A Bride, And Hug It In Mine Arms.

Love Is A Wonderful, Terrible Thing

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

Bid Me Run, And I Will Strive With Things Impossible.

Feed On Her Damask Cheek: She Pined In Thought, And With A Green And Yellow Melancholy She Sat Like Patience On A Monument, Smiling At Grief