Hurry No Man's Cattle; You May Come

What Can They See In The Longest Kingly Line In Europe, Save That It Runs Back To A Successful Soldier?

Call It Not Vain: They Do Not Err Who Say That When The Poet Dies Mute Nature Mourns Her Worshipper, And Celebrates His Obsequies.

I Will Tear This Folly From My Heart, Though Every Fibre Bleed As I Rend It Away!

Thus Aged Men, Full Loth And Slow, The Vanities Of Life Forego, And Count Their Youthful Follies O'er, Till Memory Lends Her Light No More.

Her Blue Eyes Sought The West Afar, For Lovers Love The Western Star.