Wine Is Only Sweet To Happy Men.

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.

All Clean And Comfortable I Sit Down To Write.

The Feel Of Not To Feel It, When There Is None To Heal It Nor Numbed Sense To Steel It.

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

What Is There In Thee, Moon! That Thou Should'st Move My Heart So Potently?