So Little Knows Any, But

And Now Without Redemption All Mankind Must Have Been Lost, Adjudged To Death And Hell By Doom Severe.

A Poet Soaring In The High Reason Of His Fancies, With His Garland And Singing Robes About Him.

Midnight Brought On The Dusky Hour Friendliest To Sleep And Silence.

To Hear The Lark Begin His Flight, And Singing Startle The Dull Night, From His Watch-tower In The Skies, Till The Dappled Dawn Doth Rise.

The Conquer'd, Also, And Enslaved By War, Shall, With Their Freedom Lost, All Virtue Lose.