It Was Not The Apple On The

There's Nothing Great Nor Small, Has Said A Poet Of Our Day, Whose Voice Will Ring Beyond The Curfew Of Eve And Not Be Thrown Out By The Matin's Bell.

I Should Not Dare To Call My Soul My Own.

I Have Done Most Of My Talking By Post Of Late Years--as People Shut Up In Dungeons Take Up With Scrawling Mottoes On The Walls.

Behold Me! I Am Worthy Of Thy Loving, For I Love Thee!

Get Work, Get Work; Be Sure 'tis Better Than What You Work To Get.