And Feel That I Am Happier Than

Thus With The Year Seasons Return; But Not To Me Returns Day, Or The Sweet Approach Of Even Or Morn, Or Sight Of Vernal Bloom Or Summer's Rose, Or Flocks, Or Herds, Or Human Face Divine; But Cloud Instead, And Ever-during Dark Surrounds Me; From The Cheerful Ways Of Men Cut Off, And For The Book Of Knowledge Fair Presented With A Universal Blank Of Nature's Works, To Me Expung'd And Raz'd, And Wisdom At One Entrance Quite Shut Out.

Virtue That Wavers Is Not Virtue.

God Shall Be All In All.

They Who Have Put Out The People's Eyes Reproach Them Of Their Blindness.

A Death-like Sleep, A Gentle Wafting To Immortal Life.