And What Is Writ Is Writ -

Twas Twilight, And The Sunless Day Went Down Over The Waste Of Waters; Like A Veil, Which, If Withdrawn, Would But Disclose The Frown Of One Whose Hate Is Mask'd But To Assail.

Society Is Now One Polished Horde, Formed Of Two Mighty Tries, The Bores And Bored.

So We'll Go No More A-roving So Late Into The Night, Though The Heart Still Be As Loving, And The Moon Still Be As Bright. For The Sword Outwears Its Sheath, And The Soul Outwears The Breast, And The Heart Must Pause To Breathe, And Love Itself Have Rest. Though The Night Was Made For Loving, And The Day Returns Too Soon, Yet We'll Go No More A-roving By The Light Of The Moon.

In Hope To Merit Heaven By Making Earth A Hell.

What Deep Wounds Ever Closed Without A Scar? The Hearts Bleed Longest, And Heals But To Wear That Which Disfigures It.