Absence From Whom We Love Is Worse

With Spots Quadrangular Of Diamond Form, Ensanguined Hearts, Clubs Typical Of Strife, And Spades, The Emblems Of Untimely Graves.

When From Soft Love Proceeds The Deep Distress, Ah! Why Forbid The Willing Tears To Flow?

But What Is Truth? 'twas Pilate's Question Put To Truth Itself, That Deign'd Him No Reply.

Visits Are Insatiable Devourers Of Time, And Fit Only For Those Who, If They Did Not That, Would Do Nothing.

Heaven Speed The Canvas, Gallantly Unfurl'd, To Furnish And Accommodate A World, To Give The Pole The Produce Of The Sun, And Knit The Unsocial Climates Into One.