When The New Light Which We Beg

Now Came Still Evening On; And Twilight Gray Had In Her Sober Livery All Things Clad: Silence Accompanied; For Beast And Bird, They To They Grassy Couch, These To Their Nests, Were Slunk, All But The Wakeful Nightingale.

Death Grinn'd Horrible A Ghastly Smile, To Hear His Famine Should Be Fill'd.

With Ruin Upon Ruin, Rout On Rout, Confusion Worse Confounded.

All Seemed Well Pleased, All Seemed, But Were Not All.

Nothing Profits More Than Self-esteem, Grounded On What Is Just And Right.