Wan Night, The Shadow Goer, Came Stepping

Hell Is More Bearable Than Nothingness.

It Is Sad To See The Light Of Beauty Wane Away, Know Eyes Are Dimming, Bosoms Shrivelling, Feet Losing Their Springs, And Limbs Their Lily Roundness; But It Is Worse To Feel The Heart-spring Gone, To Lose Hope, Care Not For The Coming Thing, And Feel All Things Go To Decay Within Us.

The Course Of Nature Seems A Course Of Death, And Nothingness The Whole Substantial Thing.

Youth Might Be Wise; We Suffer Less From Pains Than Pleasures.

For As Nightingales Do Upon Glow-worms Feed, So Poets Live Upon The Living Light.