Though they did not kiss, / Yet still between his Darkness and his Brightness / There passed a mutual glance of great politeness.

The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave, The Moon, their Mistress, had expired before; The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air, And the clouds perish'd; darkness had no need Of aid from them--she was the Universe.

And out of darkness came the hands That reach thro' nature, moulding men.

And out of darkness came the hands that reach thro' nature, moulding men.

There is no such thing as a life of passion any more than a continuous earthquake, or an eternal fever. Besides, who would ever shave themselves in such a state?

The poor dog, in life the firmest friend. The first to welcome, foremost to defend.