I Sing The Progress Of A Deathless

To Roam Giddily, And Be Everywhere But At Home, Such Freedom Doth A Banishment Become.

In Heaven It Is Always Autumn.

How Great Love Is, Presence Best Trial Makes, But Absence Tries How Long This Love Will Be.

I Do Not Love A Man, Except I Hate His Vices, Because Those Vices Are The Enemies, And The Destruction Of That Friend Whom I Love.

One Short Sleep Past, We Wake Eternally, And Death Shall Be No More; Death, Thou Shalt Die.