Shoulder The Sky, My Lad, And Drink

Do Not Ever Read Books About Versification: No Poet Ever Learnt It That Way. If You Are Going To Be A Poet, It Will Come To You Naturally And You Will Pick Up All You Need From Reading Poetry.

How Clear, How Lovely Bright, How Beautiful To Sight Those Beams Of Morning Play; How Heaven Laughs Out With Glee Where, Like A Bird Set Free, Up From The Eastern Sea Soars The Delightful Day. To-day I Shall Be Strong, No More Shall Yield To Wrong, Shall Squander Life No More; Days Lost, I Know Not How, I Shall Retrieve Them Now; Now I Shall Keep The Vow I Never Kept Before. Ensanguining The Skies How Heavily It Dies Into The West Away; Past Touch And Sight And Sound Not Further To Be Found, How Hopeless Under Ground Falls The Remorseful Day.

Now, Of My Threescore Years And Ten, Twenty Will Not Come Again.

In Every American There Is An Air Of Incorrigible Innocence, Which Seems To Conceal A Diabolical Cunning.

When I Was One-and-twenty I Heard A Wise Man Say, `give Crowns And Pounds And Guineas But Not Your Heart Away; Give Pearls Away And Rubies But Keep Your Fancy Free.' But I Was One-and-twenty No Use To Talk To Me. When I Was One-and-twenty I Heard Him Say Again, `the Heart Out Of The Bosom Was Never Given In Vain; 'tis Paid With Sighs A Plenty And Sold For Endless Rue.' And I Am Two-and-twenty And Oh, 'tis True, 'tis True.