Comfort And Indolence Are Cronies.

A Man That's Fond Precociously Of Stirring , :;:; Must Be A Spoon.

No Sun, No Moon, No Morn, No Noon, No Dawn, No Dusk, No Proper Time Of Day, . . . . . . No Road, No Street, No T' Other Side The Way, . . . . . . No Shade, No Shine, No Butterflies, No Bees, No Fruits, No Flowers, No Leaves, No Buds.

I Saw Old Autumn In The Misty Morn Stand Shadowless Like Silence, Listening To Silence.

O Men With Sisters Dear, O Men With Mothers And Wives, It Is Not Linen You 're Wearing Out, But Human Creatures' Lives!

Pity It Is To Slay The Meanest Thing.