He's Just, Your Cousin, Ay,

Quick-loving Hearts ... May Quickly Loathe.

Sing, Seraph With The Glory! Heaven Is High. Sing, Poet With The Sorrow! Earth Is Low. The Universe's Inward Voices Cry "amen" To Either Song Of Joy And Woe. Sing, Seraph, Poet! Sing On Equally!

What I Do And What I Dream Include Thee, As The Wine Must Taste Of Its Own Grapes.

There, That Is Our Secret: Go To Sleep! You Will Wake, And Remember, And Understand.

O Pusillanimous Heart, Be Comforted And, Like A Cheerful Traveller, Take The Road Singing Beside The Hedge.