Not Stepping Over The Bounds Of Modesty.

And Ruin`d Love When It Is Built Anew, Grows Fairer Than At First, More Strong, Far Greater

Did My Heart Love Till Now? Forswear It, Sight! For I Ne'er Saw True Beauty Till This Night.

Art Thou Not, Fatal Vision, Sensible To Feelings As To Sight?

I Was A Coward On Instinct.

There Is An Old Poor Man,. . . . Oppress'd With Two Weak Evils, Age And Hunger.