Yes, Love Indeed Is Light

The Sight Of Blood To Crowds Begets The Thirst Of More, As The First Wine-cup Leads To The Long Revel.

Grief Is Fantastical, And Loves The Dead, And The Apparel Of The Grave.

My Boat Is On The Shore, And My Bark Is On The Sea.

Oh, Nature's Noblest Gift, My Grey Goose Quill, Slave Of My Thoughts, Obedient To My Will, Torn From The Parent Bird To Form A Pen, That Mighty Instrument Of Little Men.

If Ancient Tales Say True, Nor Wrong These Holy Men.