Very Old Are The Woods;

Slowly, Silently, Now The Moon Walks The Night In Her Silver Shoon.

Lear, Macbeth. Mercutio – They Live On Their Own As It Were. The Newspapers Are Full Of Them, If We Were Only The Shakespeares To See It. Have You Ever Been In A Police Court? Have You Ever Watched Tradesmen Behind Their Counters? My Soul, The Secrets Walking In The Streets! You Jostle Them At Every Corner. There's A Polonius In Every First-class Railway Carriage, And As Many Juliets As There Are Boarding-schools. ... How Inexhaustibly Rich Everything Is, If You Only Stick To Life.

What Is The World, O Soldiers? It Is I, I, This Incessant Snow, This Northern Sky.

His Are The Quiet Steeps Of Dreamland, The Waters Of No-more-pain; His Ram's Bell Rings 'neath An Arch Of Stars, "rest, Rest, And Rest Again.

A Lost But Happy Dream May Shed Its Light Upon Our Waking Hours, And The Whole Day May Be Infected With The Gloom Of A Dreary Or Sorrowful One; Yet Of Neither May We Be Able To Recover A Trace.