And A Man's Life's No

Truth Hath A Quiet Breast.

Speak The Speech, I Pray You, As I Pronounc'd It To You, Trippingly On The Tongue.

How Sometimes Nature Will Betray Its Folly, Its Tenderness, And Make Itself A Pastime To Harder Bosoms!

Well, Every One Can Master A Grief But He That Has It.

Fairies, Black, Grey, Green, And White, You Moonshine Revellers, And Shades Of Night, You Orphan Heirs Of Fixed Destiny, Attend Your Office And Your Quality.