Praising What Is Lost Makes The Remembrance

And Will He Not Come Again? And Will He Not Come Again? No, No, He Is Dead. Go To Thy Deathbed. He Never Will Come Again.

Time, Whose Millioned Accidents Creep In Betwixt Vows, And Change Decrees Of Kings, Tan Sacred Beauty, Blunt The Sharpest Intents, Divert Strong Minds To The Course Of Altering Things.

Dream On, Dream On, Of Bloody Deeds And Death.

Of All Base Passions, Fear Is The Most Accursed.

Who Is So Firm That Can't Be Seduced?