They Import And They Consume

Death's A Fierce Meadowlark: But To Die Having Made / Something More Equal To The Centuries / Than Muscle And Bone, Is Mostly To Shed Weakness.

There Is No Reason For Amazement: Surely One Always Knew That Cultures Decay, And Life's End Is Death.

We Might Remember ... Not To Fear Death; It Is The Only Way To Be Cleansed.

The Heads Of Strong Old Age Are Beautiful Beyond All Grace Of Youth.

Imagination, The Traitor Of The Mind, Has Taken My Solitude And Slain It.