By Headless Charles See Heartless

Such Partings Break The Heart They Fondly Hope To Heal.

Many Are Poets, But Without The Name;for What Is Poesy But To Createfrom Overfeeling Good Or Ill; And Aimat An External Life Beyond Our Fate,and Be The New Prometheus Of New Men,bestowing Fire From Heaven, And Then, Too Late,finding The Pleasure Given Repaid With Pain

No Words Suffice The Secret Soul To Show, For Truth Denies All Eloquence To Woe.

All Tragedies Are Finished By A Death, All Comedies Are Ended By A Marriage.

The Devil Hath Not, In All His Quiver's Choice, An Arrow For The Heart Like A Sweet Voice.