When Night Hath Set Her Silver Lamp

Obey Thy Genius, For A Minister It Is Unto The Throne Of Fate. Draw To Thy Soul, And Centralize The Rays Which Are Around Of The Divinity.

Let Us Think Less Of Men And More Of God.

Music Lives Within Thy Lips Like A Nightingale In Roses.

Man Is One; And He Hath One Great Heart. It Is Thus We Feel, With A Gigantic Throb Athwart The Sea, Each Other's Rights And Wrongs; Thus Are We Men.

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