Where Thou Art, That Is Home.

The Crime, From Us, Is Hidden, [though] He Is Presumed To Know.

What Fortitude The Soul Contains, That It Can So Endure The Accent Of A Coming Foot- The Opening Of A Door.

I Hope Your Rambles Have Been Sweet, And Your Reveries Spacious

The Sweets Of Pillage Can Be Known To No One But The Thief, Compassion For Integrity Is His Divinest Grief.

Presentiment Is That Long Shadow On The Lawn Indicative That Suns Go Down; The Notice To The Startled Grass That Darkness Is About To Pass.