Among Unequals What Society Can Sort, What

Better To Reign In Hell Than Serve In Heav'n.

Thy Liquid Notes That Close The Eye Of Day.

And To The Faithful: Death, The Gate Of Life.

In Argument With Men A Woman Ever Goes By The Worse, Whatever Be Her Cause.

Sabrina Fair, Listen Where Thou Art Sitting Under The Glassy, Cool, Translucent Wave, In Twisted Braids Of Lilies Knitting The Loose Train Of Thy Amber-dropping Hair.