Comfort And Indolence Are Cronies.

No Blessed Leisure For Love Or Hope, But Only Time For Grief.

Alas For The Rarity Of Christian Charity Under The Sun!

Oh, If It Be To Choose And Call Thee Mine, Love, Thou Art Every Day My Valentine!

No Shade, No Shine, No Butterflies, No Bees, No Fruits, No Flowers, No Leaves, No Birds - November!

She Stood Breast-high Amid The Corn Clasp'd By The Golden Light Of Morn, Like The Sweetheart Of The Sun, Who Many A Glowing Kiss Had Won.