For Grief Is Crowned With Consolation.

The Undiscovered Country From Whose Bourn No Traveler Returns.

He Is White-livered And Red-faced.

Yet Mark'd I Where The Bolt Of Cupid Fell: It Fell Upon A Little Western Flower, Before Milk-white, Now Purple With Love's Wound, And Maidens Call It Love-in-idleness.

Making Night Hideous.

A Young Woman In Love Always Looks Like Patience On A Monument Smiling At Grief