Time Strips Our Illusions Of

Which Cheers The Sad, Revives The Old, Inspires The Young, Makes Weariness Forget His Toil, And Fear Her Danger; Opens A New World When This, The Present, Palls.

It Is The Lava Of The Imagination Whose Eruption Prevents An Earthquake.

What Want These Outlaws Conquerors Should Have But History's Purchased Page To Call Them Great?

Most Glorious Night! Thou Wert Not Sent For Slumber!

I Cannot Conceive Why People Will Always Mix Up My Own Character And Opinions With Those Of The Imaginary Beings Which, As A Poet, I Have The Right And Liberty To Draw.