The Present Is The Funeral Of The

He Could Not Die When The Trees Were Green, For He Loved The Time Too Well.

If Life Had A Second Edition, How I Would Correct The Proofs.

Yet Simple Souls, Their Faith It Knows No Stint: Things Least To Be Believed Are Most Preferred. All Counterfeits, As From Truth's Sacred Mint, Are Readily Believed If Once Put Down In Print

I Hid My Love When Young Till I Couldn't Bear The Buzzing Of A Fly; I Hid My Life To My Despite Till I Could Not Bear To Look At Light: I Dare Not Gaze Upon Her Face But Left Her Memory In Each Place; Where'er I Saw A Wild Flower Lie I Kissed And Bade My Love Good-bye.

Wildness Is My Suiting Scene.