My Heart Like Moon-charmed Waters, All Unrest.

A Man Can Bear A World's Contempt When He Has That Within Which Says He's Worthy. When He Contemns Himself, There Burns The Hell.

The Pale Child, Eve, Leading Her Mother, Night.

Sweet April's Tears, Dead On The Hem Of May.

Each Time We Love,we Turn A Nearer And A Broader Markto That Keen Archer, Sorrow, And He Strikes.

Trifles Make Up The Happiness Or The Misery Of Mortal Life.