We See Which Way The Stream Of

O, Spirit Of Love, How Quick And Fresh Art Thou!

Full Fathom Five Thy Father Lies; Of His Bones Are Coral Made; Those Are Pearls That Were His Eyes; Nothing Of Him That Doth Fade, But Doth Suffer A Sea-change Into Something Rich And Strange. Sea-nymphs Hourly Ring His Knell: Ding-dong. Hark! Now I Hear Them — Ding-dong, Bell.

What Is The City But The People?

There's No Art To Find The Mind's Construction In The Face.

Mend When Thou Canst; Be Better At Thy Leisure.