So Sweet The Blush Of

The 'good Old Times' - All Times When Old Are Good.

If I Am Fool, It Is, At Least, A Doubting One; And I Envy No One The Certainty Of His Self-approved Wisdom.

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

So Do The Dark In Soul Expire, Or Live Like Scorpion Girt By Fire; So Writhes The Mind Remorse Hath Riven, Unfit For Earth, Undoom'd For Heaven, Darkness Above, Despair Beneath, Around It Flame, Within It Death.

I Learned To Love Despair.