Their Woes Gone By, And

But Let Me See Thee Stoop From Heaven On Wings That Fill The Sky With Silver Glitterings!

Who Would Wish To Be Among The Commonplace Crowd Of The Little Famous - Who Are Each Individually Lost In A Throng Made Up Of Themselves?

There Is A Budding Morrow In Midnight.

Beauty Is Truth, Truth Beauty,-that Is All Ye Know On Earth, And All Ye Need To Know.

Thou Wast Not Born For Death, Immortal Bird! No Hungry Generations Tread Thee Down; The Voice I Hear This Passing Night Was Heard In Ancient Days By Emperor And Clown.