Not One Man In A Thousand Has

Come, Come Thou Bleak December Wind, And Blow The Dry Leaves From The Tree! Flash, Like A Love-thought, Thro'me, Death And Take A Life That Wearies Me.

All Nature Seems At Work.

And They Three Passed Over The White Sands, Between The Rocks, Silent As The Shadows.

Motives Are Symptoms Of Weakness, And Supplements For The Deficient Energy Of The Living Principle, The Law Within Us. Let Them Then Be Reserved For Those Momentous Acts And Duties In Which The Strongest And Best-balanced Natures Must Feel Themselves Deficient, And Where Humility No Less Than Prudence Prescribes Deliberation.

Ah Why Refuse The Blameless Bliss? Can Danger Lurk Within A Kiss?