The Lovely Flowers Embarrass Me. They Make

I Took My Power In My Hand -- And Went Against The World -- 'twas Not So Much As David -- Had -- But I -- Was Twice As Bold -- I Aimed By Pebble -- But Myself Was All The One That Fell -- Was It Goliath -- Was Too Large -- Or Was Myself -- Too Small?

That Short, Potential Stir That Each Can Make But Once, That Bustle So Illustrious Tis Almost Consequence, Is The Eclat Of Death.

Nature, Like Us Is Sometimes Caught Without Her Diadem.

The Sun Proceeds Unmoved To Measure Off Another Day For An Approving God.

Whenever A Thing Is Done For The First Time, It Releases A Little Demon.