I Tell You, Hopeless Grief Is Passionless.

And There My Little Doves Did Sit With Feathers Softly Brown And Glittering Eyes That Showed Their Right To General Nature's Deep Delight.

The Plague Of Gold Strikes Far And Near.

But Since He Had The Genius To Be Loved, Why Let Him Have The Justice To Be Honoured In His Grave.

Mountain Gorses, Do Ye Teach Us . . . . That The Wisest Word Man Reaches Is The Humblest He Can Speak?

It Is Difficult To Get Rid Of People When You Once Have Given Them Too Much Pleasure.