Hell Is The Wrath Of

Tis Light Translateth Night; 'tis Inspiration Expounds Experience; 'tis The West Explains The East; 'tis Time Unfolds Eternity.

Dewdrops, Nature's Tears, Which She Sheds In Her Own Breast For The Fair Which Die. The Sun Insists On Gladness; But At Night, When He Is Gone, Poor Nature Loves To Weep.

See The Sun! God's Crest Upon His Azure Shield, The Heavens.

Life Hath More Awe Than Death.

The Poet's Pen Is The True Divining Rod Which Trembles Towards The Inner Founts Of Feeling; Bringing To Light And Use, Else Hid From All, The Many Sweet Clear Sources Which We Have Of Good And Beauty In Our Own Deep Bosoms; And Marks The Variations Of All Mind As Does The Needle.