And Children Know, Instinctive Taught,

For Love Is Heaven And Heaven Is Love.

If A Faultless Poem Could Be Produced, I Am Satisfied It Would Tire The Critics Themselves; And Annoy The Whole Reading World With The Spleen.

Mystery Has Great Charms For Womanhood.

But Search The Land Of Living Men, Where Wilt Thou Find Their Like Again?

Sleep The Sleep That Knows Not Breaking, Morn Of Toil, Nor Night Of Waking.