But At My Back I Always Hear

And Yonder All Before Us Lie Deserts Of Vast Eternity.

Let Us Roll All Our Strength, And All Our Sweetness, Up Into One Ball: And Tear Our Pleasures With Rough Strife, Through The Iron Gates Of Life. Thus, Though We Cannot Make Our Sun Stand Still, Yet We Will Make Him Run.

Among The Blind The One-eyed Blinkard Reigns

My Love Is Of A Birth As Rare As 'tis, For Object, Strange And High; It Was Begotten By Despair Upon Impossibility.

How Could Such Sweet And Wholesome Hours Be Reckoned, But In Herbs And Flowers?