The English Winter - Ending In July

He Makes A Solitude, And Calls It - Peace!

Rough Johnson, The Great Moralist.

Man Marks The Earth With Ruin - His Control Stops With The Shore.

I Should Like To Know Who Has Been Carried Off, Except Poor Dear Me - I Have Been More Ravished Myself Than Anybody Since The Trojan War.

Once More Upon The Waters! Yet Once More! And The Waves Bound Beneath Me As A Steed That Knows His Rider.