Grief Is Fantastical, And Loves The Dead,

Mont Blanc Is The Monarch Of Mountains; They Crown'd Him Long Ago On A Throne Of Rocks, In A Robe Of Clouds, With A Diadem Of Snow.

Muse Of The Many Twinkling Feet, Whose Charms Are Now Extending Up From Legs To Arms.

To Withdraw Myself From Myself Has Ever Been My Sole, My Entire, My Sincere Motive In Scribbling At All.

Be Warm, Be Pure, Be Amorous, But Be Chaste.

Happiness Was Born A Twin.