The place is very well and quiet and the children only scream in a low voice.

A little still she strove, and much repented, And whispering “I will ne'er consent”—consented.

There is something pagan in me that I cannot shake off. In short, I deny nothing, but doubt everything.

Earth! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead! Of the three hundred grant but three, To make a new Thermopylæ!

Men think highly of those who rise rapidly in the world; whereas nothing rises quicker than dust, straw, and feathers.

Maidens, like moths, are ever caught, by glare, And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.

The image of Eternity--the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.