Poetry Is Thoughts That Breathe, And Words

To Brisk Notes In Cadence Beating, Glance Their Many-twinkling Feet.

And Moody Madness Laughing Wild Amid Severest Woe.

E'en From The Tomb The Voice Of Nature Cries, E'en In Our Ashes Live Their Wonted Fires.

Youth Smiles Without Any Reason. It Is One Of Its Chiefest Charms.

Nor Grandeur Hear With A Disdainful Smile The Short And Simple Annals Of The Poor.