And Feel That I Am Happier Than

O Welcome Pure-eyed Faith, White Handed Hope, Thou Hovering Angel Girt With Golden Wings.

From Restless Thoughts, That, Like A Deadly Swarm Of Hornets Arm'd, No Sooner Found Alone, But Rush Upon Me Thronging.

Sable-vested Night, Eldest Of Things.

Yet From Those Flames No Light, But Rather Darkness Visible.

No Man Who Knows Aught, Can Be So Stupid To Deny That All Men Naturally Were Born Free.