No War Or Battle Sound Was Heard

And If By Prayer Incessant I Could Hope To Change The Will Of Him Who All Things Can, I Would Not Cease To Weary Him With My Assiduous Cries.

Ease Would Recant Vows Made In Pain, As Violent And Void.

Lords Are Lordliest In Their Wine.

And Live Like Nature's Bastards, Not Her Sons.

As Children Gath'ring Pebbles On The Shore. Or If I Would Delight My Private Hours With Music Or With Poem, Where So Soon As In Our Native Language Can I Find That Solace?