Farewell! Thou Art Too Dear For My

O For A Horse With Wings!

For Conspiracy, I Know Not How It Tastes, Though It Be Dished For Me To Try How.

And Will He Not Come Again? And Will He Not Come Again? No, No, He Is Dead. Go To Thy Deathbed. He Never Will Come Again.

Mean And Mighty, Rotting Together, Have One Dust.

Can I Go Forward When My Heart Is Here?