The Whole White World Is Ours.

But Beauty Is Set Apart, Beauty Is Cast By The Sea, A Barren Rock, Beauty Is Set About With Wrecks Of Ships.

The Quivering Of Psyche's Butterflies.

Love, Why Have You Sought The Horde Of Spearsmen, Why The Tent Achilles Pitched Beside The River-ford?

The Heart The Heart The Heart How It Thrives On Hate.

My Eye-balls Are Glass, My Limbs Marble, My Face Fixed In Its Marble Mask.