Good Work And Joyous Play Go Hand

This Is The Age Of Oddities Let Loose.

The Castled Crag Of Drachenfels, Frowns O'er The Wide And Winding Rhine, Whose Breast Of Waters Broadly Swells Between The Banks Which Bear The Vine, And Hills All Rich With Blossom'd Trees, And Fields Which Promise Corn And Wine, And Scatter'd Cities Crowning These, Whose Far White Walls Along Them Shine.

'tis Sweet To Know There Is An Eye Will Mark Our Coming, And Look Brighter When We Come.

What Is Death, So It Be But Glorious? 'tis A Sunset; And Mortals May Be Happy To Resemble The Gods But In Decay.

A Man Of Eighty Has Outlived Probably Three New Schools Of Painting, Two Of Architecture And Poetry And A Hundred In Dress.