Die Of A Rose In Aromatic Pain.

For Critics, As They Are Birds Of Prey, Have Ever A Natural Inclination To Carrion.

In This Commonplace World Every One Is Said To Be Romantic Who Either Admires A Fine Thing Or Does One.

Death, Only Death, Can Break The Lasting Chain; And Here, Ev'n Then, Shall My Cold Dust Remain

Hope Travels Through, Nor Quits Us When We Die.

Unblemish'd Let Me Live Or Die Unknown; Oh, Grant An Honest Fame, Or Grant Me None!