Let Me Confess That We Two Must

You Jig, You Amble, And You Lisp.

He Hath Borne Himself Beyond The Promise Of His Age, Doing, In The Figure Of A Lamb, The Feats Of A Lion.

Thus Sometimes Hath The Brightest Day A Cloud; And After Summer Evermore Succeeds Barren Winter, With His Wrathful Nipping Cold: So Cares And Joys Abound, As Seasons Fleet.

I Can No Other Answer Make, But, Thanks, And Thanks.

Sometimes, Less Is More.