It Is Not Night When I Do

Too Much To Know Is To Know Nought But Fame; And Every Godfather Can Give A Name.

Come, Lady, Die To Live.

Wishers Were Ever Fools.

The Crown O' The Earth Doth Melt. My Lord! O, Wither'd Is The Garland Of The War, The Soldier's Pole Is Fall'n: Young Boys And Girls Are Level Now With Men; The Odds Is Gone, And There Is Nothing Left Remarkable Beneath The Visiting Moon.

Put Forth Thy Hand, Reach At The Glorious Gold.