And fragile is thy tenure of this world Still haunted by the monstrous ghost of God. ("To Science")

Thy Banners gleam a little, and are furled; Against thy turrets surge His phantom tow'rs; Drugged with his Opiates the nations nod, Refusing still the beauty of thine hours; And fragile is thy tenure of this world Still haunted by the monstrous ghost of God.

As a breath on glass, - As witch-fires that burn, The gods and monsters pass, Are dust, and return. (“The Face of the Skies”)

And fragile is thy tenure of this world Still haunted by the monstrous ghost of God. ("To Science")

A prison becomes a home when you have the key.

The cool, grey city of love.

Within its gates I heard the sound Of winds in cypress caverns caught Of huddling tress that moaned, and sought To whisper what their roots had found. (“A Dream of Fear”)