Light Quirks Of Music, Broken And Uneven,make

You Purchase Pain With All That Joy Can Give And Die Of Nothing But A Rage To Live.

O Love! For Sylvia Let Me Gain The Prize, And Make My Tongue Victorious As Her Eyes.

Ask You What Provocation I Have Had? The Strong Antipathy Of Good To Bad.

For What I Have Publish'd, I Can Only Hope To Be Pardon'd; But For What I Have Burned, I Deserve To Be Prais'd.

Where London's Column, Pointing At The Skies, Like A Tall Bully, Lifts The Head, And Lies.