Bards Of Passion And Of

The Thought, The Deadly Thought Of Solitude.

'tis The Witching Hour Of Night, Orbed Is The Moon And Bright. And The Stars They Glisten, Glisten, Seeming With Bright Eyes To Listen- For What Listen They?

How Does The Poet Speak To Men With Power, But By Being Still More A Man Than They

Life Is But A Day; A Fragile Dewdrop On Its Perilous Way From A Tree's Summit.

O For A Life Of Sensations Rather Than Of Thoughts!