No Coward Soul Is Mine, No Trembler

She Burned Too Bright For This World.

Earth Reserves No Blessing For The Unblessed Of Heaven!

I Lingered Round Them, Under That Benign Sky; Watched The Moths Fluttering Among The Heath And Hare-bells; Listened To The Soft Wind Breathing Through The Grass; And Wondered How Anyone Could Ever Imagine Unquiet Slumbers For The Sleepers In That Quiet Earth.

The Tyrant Grinds Down His Slaves And They Don't Turn Against Him, They Crush Those Beneath Them.

He Might As Well Plant An Oak In A Flowerpot, And Expect It To Thrive, As Imagine He Can Restore Her To Vigour In The Soil Of His Shallow Cares!