For In That Sleep Of Death What

There Is No More Mercy In Him Than There Is Milk In A Male Tiger.

If Ever (as That Ever May Be Near) You Meet In Some Fresh Cheek The Power Of Fancy, Then Shall You Know The Wounds Invisible That Love's Keen, Arrows Make.

When You Fear A Foe, Fear Crushes Your Strength; And This Weakness Gives Strength To Your Opponents.

This Thing Of Darkness I Acknowlege Mine. There Is Nothing More Confining Than The Prison We Don't Know We Are In.

Fair Youth, I Would I Could Make Thee Believe I Love.