Thou Hast The Keys Of Paradise, Oh,

As Is The Inventor Of Murder, And The Father Of Art, Cain Must Have Been A Man Of First-rate Genius.

Kings Should Disdain To Die, And Only Disappear.

Out Of The Ruined Lodge And Forgotten Mansion, Bowers That Are Trodden Under Foot, And Pleasure-houses That Are Dust, The Poet Calls Up A Palingenesis.

Rightly It Is Said Of Utter, Utter Misery, That It 'cannot Be Remembered'; Itself, Being A Rememberable Thing, Is Swallowed Up In Its Own Chaos.

All Men Come Into This World Alone And Leave It Alone.