Civil Wars Leave Nothing But Tombs.

Shall Not This Bygone Eden That We Knew In Our Eternal Life Have Shape And Hue? For Where Time Is Not Shall Not All Time Be? In That Calm Breast Whereto Our Souls Are Cleaving Shall We Not Find Our Loved Ones Beyond Grieving About The Hearth-stone Of Eternity?

Poetry Has Been The Guardian Angel Of Humanity In All Ages.

My Dog! The Difference Between Thee And Me Knows Only Our Creator.

I Say To This Night: "pass More Slowly"; And The Dawn Will Come To Dispel The Night.

At Twenty Every One Is Republican.