Fruits fail and love dies and time ranges;Thou art fed with perpetual breath, and alive after infinite changes,And fresh from the kisses of death,Of langours rekindled and rallied, Of barren delights and unclean,Things monstrous and fruitless, a pallidAnd poisonous queen.

Who knows but on their sleep may rise Such light as never heaven let through To lighten earth from Paradise?

Is not Precedent indeed a King of men? A Word from the Psalmist.

Wherever there is a grain of loyalty there is a glimpse of freedom.

The beast faith lives on its own dung.

Despair the twin-born of devotion.

Thou hast conquered, O pale Galilean; the world has grown grey from thy breath;/ We have drunken of things Lethean, and fed on the fullness of death