Faith Slips - And Laughs, And Rallies

Death Is A Supple Suitor, That Wins At Last. It Is A Stealthy Wooing; Conducted First By Pallid Innuendos And Dim Approach, But Brave At Last With Bugles.

Fame Is A Fickle Food Upon A Shifting Plate.

Heart, We Will Forget Him, You And I, Tonight! You Must Forget The Warmth He Gave, I Will Forget The Light.

A Courteous, Yet Harrowing Grace, As Guest, That Would Be Gone

Sweet Skepticism Of The Heart That Knows And Does Not Know And Tosses Like A Fleet Of Balm Affronted By The Snow.