Opinion Crowns With An Imperial

I Heard A Bustling Rumor Like A Fray, And The Wind Blows It From The Capitol.

Death, A Necessary End, Will Come When It Will Come

Love Sought Is Good, But Given Unsought, Is Better.

Love, Whose Month Is Ever May, Spied A Blossom Passing Fair, Playing In The Wanton Air: Through The Velvet Leaves The Wind, All Unseen Can Passage Find; That The Lover, Sick To Death, Wish'd Himself The Heaven's Breath.

If You Have Tears, Prepare To Shed Them Now.