Few Sometimes May Know, When

He That Has Light Within His Own Clear Breast May Sit In The Centre, And Enjoy Bright Day: But He That Hides A Dark Soul And Foul Thoughts Benighted Walks Under The Mid-day Sun; Himself His Own Dungeon.

Sabrina Fair, Listen Where Thou Art Sitting Under The Glassy, Cool, Translucent Wave, In Twisted Braids Of Lilies Knitting The Loose Train Of Thy Amber-dropping Hair.

Our Cure, To Be No More; Sad Cure!

Untwisting All The Chains That Tie The Hidden Soul Of Harmony.

In Argument With Men A Woman Ever Goes By The Worse, Whatever Be Her Cause.