I Do Not Call The Sod Under

If A Man Could Pass Through Paradise In A Dream, And Have A Flower Presented To Him As A Pledge That His Soul Had Really Been There, And If He Found That Flower In His Hand When He Awake - Aye, What Then?

Frenchmen Are Like Gunpowder, Each By Itself Smutty And Contemptible, But Mass Them Together And They Are Terrible Indeed!

Swiftly, Swiftly Flew The Ship, Yet She Sailed Softly Too: Sweetly, Sweetly Blew The Breeze - On Me Alone It Blew.

In Your Intercourse With Sects, The Sublime And Abstruse Doctrines Of Christian Belief Belong To The Church; But The Faith Of The Individual, Centred In His Heart, Is, Or May Be, Collateral To Them. Faith Is Subjective.

It Is A Gentle And Affectionate Thought, That In Immeasurable Height Above Us, At Our First Birth, The Wreath Of Love Was Woven With Sparkling Stars For Flowers.