Frost Is The Greatest Artist In Our

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.

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

Well, Something Must Be Done For May, The Time Is Drawing Nigh-- To Figure In The Catalogue, And Woo The Public Eye. Something I Must Invent And Paint; But Oh My Wit Is Not Like One Of Those Kind Substantives That Answer Who And What?

Fuss Is The Froth Of Business.

When He Is Forsaken, Withered And Shaken, What Can An Old Man Do But Die?