Every Leaf Speaks Bliss To Me, Fluttering

Look On The Grave Where Thou Must Sleep Thy Last, And Strongest Foe; It Is Endurance Not To Weep, If That Repose Seem Woe.

There Is Not Room For Death, Nor Atom That His Might Could Render Void: Thou - Thou Art Being And Breath, And What Thou Art May Never Be Destroyed.

Tis Moonlight, Summer Moonlight, All Soft And Still And Fair; The Solemn Hour Of Midnight Breathes Sweet Thoughts Everywhere, But Most Where Trees Are Sending Their Breezy Boughs On High, Or Stooping Low Are Lending A Shelter From The Sky. And There In Those Wild Bowers A Lovely Form Is Laid; Green Grass And Dew-steeped Flowers Wave Gently Round Her Head.

No Coward Soul Is Mine.

The Clock Strikes Off The Hollow Half-hours Of All The Life That Is Left To You, One By One.