Astrologers That Future Fates Foreshow.

Interspersed In Lawn And Opening Glades, Thin Trees Arise That Shun Each Others' Shades.

Wit Is The Lowest Form Of Humor.

And Empty Heads Console With Empty Sound.

Lo! The Poor Indian, Whose Untutored Mind Sees God In Clouds, Or Hears Him In The Wind.

For I, Who Hold Sage Homer's Rule The Best, Welcome The Coming, Speed The Going Guest.