Necessity, Thou Mother Of The World!

Think Ye By Gazing On Each Other's Eyes To Multiply Your Lovely Selves?

... A Wild Dissolving Bliss Over My Frame He Breathed, Approaching Near, And Bent His Eyes Of Kindling Tenderness Near Mine, And On My Lips Impressed A Lingering Kiss

Death Will Come When Thou Art Dead, Soon, Too Soon.

Gold Is A Living God And Rules In Scorn, All Earthly Things But Virtue.

The Flood Of Time Is Rolling On; We Stand Upon Its Brink, Whilst They Are Gone To Glide In Peace Down Death's Mysterious Stream. Have Ye Done Well?