And At My Silent Window-sill The Jessamine

Flowers Spring Up Unsown And Die Ungathered.

Look On This Beautiful World, And Read The Truth In Her Fair Page.

The Sad And Solemn Night Hath Yet Her Multitude Of Cheerful Fires; The Glorious Host Of Light Walk The Dark Hemisphere Till She Retires; All Through Her Silent Watches, Gliding Slow, Her Constellations Come, And Climb The Heavens, And Go.

He [william Henry Harrison] Did Not Live Long Enough To Prove His Incapacity For The Office Of President.

Heed Not The Night; A Summer Lodge Amid The Wild Is Mine, 'tis Shadowed By The Tulip-tree, 'tis Mantled By The Vine.