Call The World If You Please "the

I See A Lily On Thy Brow, With Anguish Moist And Fever Dew; And On Thy Cheek A Fading Rose Fast Withereth Too.

I Never Can Feel Certain Of Any Truth, But From A Clear Perception Of Its Beauty.

Nor Do We Merely Feel These Essences For One Short Hour No, Even As These Trees That Whisper Round A Temple Become Soon Dear As The Temples Self, So Does The Moon, The Passion Posey, Glories Infinite, Haunt Us Till They Become A Cheering Light Unto Our Souls And Bound To Us So Fast, That Wheather There Be Shine, Or Gloom O'er Cast, They Always Must Be With Us, Or We Die.

I Would Sooner Fail Than Not Be Among The Greatest.

Now A Soft Kiss - Aye, By That Kiss, I Vow An Endless Bliss.