Most Glorious Night! Thou Wert Not Sent

One Certainly Has A Soul; But How It Came To Allow Itself To Be Enclosed In A Body Is More Than I Can Imagine.

I Awoke One Day To Find Myself Famous.

Scion Of Chiefs And Monarchs, Where Art Thou? Fond Hope Of Many Nations, Art Thou Dead? Could Not The Grave Forget Thee, And Lay Low Some Less Majestic, Less Beloved Head?

Venice Once Was Dear, The Pleasant Place Of All Festivity, The Revel Of The Earth, The Masque Of Italy.

Poetry Should Only Occupy The Idle.