The Plague Of Gold Strikes Far And

Deep Violets, You Liken To The Kindest Eyes That Look On You, Without A Thought Disloyal.

In Your Patience Ye Are Strong.

I Saw, In Gradual Vision Through My Tears, The Sweet, Sad Years, The Melancholy Years, Those Of My Own Life, Who By Turns Had Flung A Shadow Across Me.

Books Are Men Of Higher Stature, And The Only Men That Speak Aloud For Future Times To Hear.

With What Cracked Pitchers Go We To Deep Wells In This World!