Tell Me Not, In Mournful Numbers, Life

With Many Readers, Brilliancy Of Style Passes For Affluence Of Thought; They Mistake Buttercups In The Grass For Immeasurable Gold Mines Under Ground.

Critics Are Sentinels In The Grand Army Of Letters, Stationed At The Corners Of Newspapers And Reviews, To Challenge Every New Author.

Autumn Arrives Like A Warrior With The Stain Of Blood Upon His Brazen Mail. His Crimson Scarf Is Rent. His Scarlet Banner Drips With Gore. His Step Is Like A Flail Upon The Threshing Floor.

It Is Difficult To Know At What Moment Love Begins; It Is Less Difficult To Know That It Has Begun.

For Hate Is Strong, And Mocks The Song Of Peace On Earth, Good-will To Men!