The Excellence Of Every Art Is Its

The Poppies Hung Dew-dabbled On Their Stalks.

Death Is Life's High Meed.

I Shall Soon Be Laid In The Quiet Grave - Thank God For The Quiet Grave

Oh What Can Ail Thee, Knight-at-arms, Alone And Palely Loitering?

There Was An Awful Rainbow Once In Heaven: We Know Her Woof, Her Texture; She Is Given In The Dull Catalogue Of Common Things. Philosophy Will Clip An Angel's Wings.