There's Not A Sea The Passenger E'er

The English Winter - Ending In July To Recommence In August

Of All The Horrid, Hideous Notes Of Woe, Sadder Than Owl-songs Or The Midnight Blast; Is That Portentous Phrase, "i Told You So.

I Feel My Immortality Over Sweep All Pains, All Tears, All Time, All Fears, - And Peal, Like The Eternal Thunders Of The Deep, Into My Ears, This Truth, - Thou Livest Forever!

Where Are The Forms The Sculptor's Soul Hath Seized? In Him Alone, Can Nature Show As Fair?

Still From The Fount Of Joy's Delicious Springs Some Bitter O'er The Flowers Its Bubbling Venom Flings.