The Rudiment Of Verse May, Possibly, Be

The Ninety And Nine Are With Dreams, Content But The Hope Of The World Made New, Is The Hundredth Man Who Is Grimly Bent On Making Those Dreams Come True.

Sound-- That Stealeth Ever On The Ear Of Him Who, Musing, Gazeth On The Distance Dim, And Sees The Darkness Coming As A Cloud-- Is Not Its Form--its Voice--most Palpable And Loud?

If You Run Out Of Ideas Follow The Road; You'll Get There

I Felt That I Breathed An Atmosphere Of Sorrow.

This Maiden She Lived With No Other Thought Than To Love And Be Loved By Me.