Sit in his purlieus, thou, and see
How with Love’s bounty we are fed.
Go to! Love loves thee not, they said.
Edith M. Thomas.
TO R. K.
As long I dwell on some stupendous
And tremendous (Heaven defend us!)
Monstr’inform’-ingens-horrendous
Demoniaco-seraphic
Penman’s latest piece of graphic.—Browning.