The Feel Of Not To Feel It,

There Was An Awful Rainbow Once In Heaven: We Know Her Woof, Her Texture; She Is Given In The Dull Catalogue Of Common Things. Philosophy Will Clip An Angel's Wings.

Land And Sea, Weakness And Decline Are Great Separators, But Death Is The Great Divorcer For Ever.

I Am Sailing With Thee Through The Dizzy Sky! How Beautiful Thou Art!

Oh What Can Ail Thee, Knight-at-arms, Alone And Palely Loitering?

Darkling I Listen; And, For Many A Time I Have Been Half In Love With Easeful Death, Called Him Soft Names In Many A Muse' D Rhyme, To Take Into The Air My Quiet Breath; Now More Than Ever Seems It Rich To Die, To Cease Upon The Midnight With No Pain, While Thou Art Pouring Forth Thy Soul Abroad In Such An Ecstasy!