Books That Have Become Classics - Books

Turn On Its Noiseless Hinges, Delicate Sleep!

That Was Indeed To Live -- At One Bold Swoop To Wrest From Darkling Death The Best That Death To Life Can Give.

Hebe's Here, May Is Here! The Air Is Fresh And Sunny; And The Miser-bees Are Busy Hoarding Golden Honey.

Those Forms We Fancy Shadows, Those Strange Lights That Flash On Dank Morasses, The Quick Wind That Smites Us By The Roadside—are The Night's Innumerable Children. Unconfined By Shroud Or Coffin, Disembodied Souls, Uneasy Spirits, Steal Into The Air From Festering Graveyards When The Curfew Tolls At The Day's Death... And Wheresoever Murders Have Been Done, In Stately Palaces Or Lonesome Woods, Where'er A Soul Has Sold Itself And Lost Its High Inheritance, There, Hovering, Broods Some Sad, Invisible, Accurséd Ghost!

It Were Better To Be A Soldier's Widow Than A Coward's Wife.