Stung By The Splendour Of

The Devil, That Old Stager, Who Leads Downward, Perhaps, But Fiddles All The Way!

Stand Still, True Poet That You Are! I Know You; Let Me Try And Draw You. Some Night You'll Fail Us: When Afar You Rise, Remember One Man Saw You, Knew You, And Named A Star!

A Lion May Die Of An Ass's Kick.

Lose Who May-i Still Can Say, Those Who Win Heaven, Blest Are They!

But How Carve Way I' The Life That Lies Before, If Bent On Groaning Ever For The Past?