We Have Woven A Web, You And

No One Can Usurp The Heights... But Those To Whom The Miseries Of The World Are Misery, And Will Not Let Them Rest.

I Never Can Feel Certain Of Any Truth, But From A Clear Perception Of Its Beauty.

Many A Time I Have Been Half In Love With Easeful Death.

I Will Clamber Through The Clouds And Exist.

Nor Do We Merely Feel These Essences For One Short Hour No, Even As These Trees That Whisper Round A Temple Become Soon Dear As The Temples Self, So Does The Moon, The Passion Posey, Glories Infinite, Haunt Us Till They Become A Cheering Light Unto Our Souls And Bound To Us So Fast, That Wheather There Be Shine, Or Gloom O'er Cast, They Always Must Be With Us, Or We Die.