Bliss In Possession Will Not Last; Remembered

Night Is The Time To Weep,to Wet With Unseen Tearsthose Graves Of Memory Where Sleepthe Joys Of Other Years.

Gashed With Honourable Scars,low In Glory's Lap They Lie;though They Fell, They Fell Like Stars,streaming Splendour Through The Sky.

Eagle Of Flowers! I See Thee Stand, And On The Sun's Noon-glory Gaze; With Eye Like His, Thy Lids Expand, And Fringe Their Disk With Golden Rays: Though Fix'd On Earth, In Darkness Rooted There, Light Is Thy Element, Thy Dwelling Air, Thy Prospect Heaven.

The Dove, On Silver Pinions, Winged Her Peaceful Way.

Fairest And Best Adorned Is She Whose Clothing Is Humility.