As Long As I Retain My Feeling

Absence - That Common Cure Of Love.

For The Angel Of Death Spread His Wings On The Blast, And Breathed In The Face Of The Foe As He Passed; And The Eyes Of The Sleepers Waxed Deadly And Chill, And Their Hearts But Once Heaved, And For Ever Grew Still!

One Hates An Author That's All Author.

Then Stirs The Feeling Infinite, So Felt In Solitude, Where We Are Least Alone.

'tis Very Certain The Desire Of Life Prolongs It.