The Genius Of Shakespeare Was An Innate

Pensive They Sit, And Roll Their Languid Eyes.

We Read Fine Things But Never Feel Them To The Full Until We Have Gone The Same Steps As The Author.

Tall Oaks Branch Charmed By The Earnest Stars Dream And So Dream All Night Without A Stir.

Young Playmates Of The Rose And Daffodil, Be Careful Ere Ye Enter In, To Fill Your Baskets High With Fennel Green, And Balm, And Golden Pines Savory Latter-mint, And Columbines.

Souls Of Poets Dead And Gone, What Elysium Have Ye Known, Happy Field Or Mossy Cavern, Choicer Than The Mermaid Tavern? Have Ye Tippled Drink More Fine Than Mine Host's Canary Wine?