Fear Is The Virtue Of Slaves; But

How Beautiful The Silent Hour, When Morning And Evening Thus Sit Together, Hand In Hand, Beneath The Starless Sky Of Midnight!

O Beautiful, Awful Summer Day, What Hast Thou Given, What Taken Away?

As To The Pure Mind All Things Are Pure, So To The Poetic Mind All Things Are Poetical.

Rule By Patience, Laughing Water!

Fear Is The Virtue Of Slaves; But The Heart That Loveth Is Willing.