Dead, Your Majesty. Dead, My Lords And

How Beautiful You Are! You Are More Beautiful In Anger Than In Repose. I Don't Ask You For Your Love; Give Me Yourself And Your Hatred; Give Me Yourself And That Pretty Rage; Give Me Yourself And That Enchanting Scorn; It Will Be Enough For Me.

And I Am Quite Serious When I Say That I Do Not Believe There Are, On The Whole Earth Besides, So Many Intensified Bores As In These United States.

Possibly We Might Even Improve The World A Little, If We Got Up Early In The Morning, And Took Off Our Coats To The Work.

The Sun,--the Bright Sun, That Brings Back, Not Light Alone, But New Life, And Hope, And Freshness To Man--burst Upon The Crowded City In Clear And Radiant Glory. Through Costly-coloured Glass And Paper-mended Window, Through Cathedral Dome And Rotten Crevice, It Shed Its Equal Ray.

I Love Your Daughter Fondly, Dearly, Disinterestedly, Devotedly. If Ever There Were Love In The World, I Love Her.