What Probing Deep Has Ever Solved The

Shakespeare Is Forever Coming Into Our Affairs -- Putting In His Oar, So To Speak -- With Some Pat Word Or Sentence.

It Is The Lord's Day, And I Do Believe That Cheerful Hearts And Faces Are Not Unpleasant In His Sight.

I Like Not Lady-slippers, Nor Yet The Sweet-pea Blossoms, Nor Yet The Flaky Roses, Red Or White As Snow; I Like The Chaliced Lilies, The Heavy Eastern Lilies, The Gorgeous Tiger-lilies, That In Our Garden Grow.

Hebe's Here, May Is Here! The Air Is Fresh And Sunny; And The Miser-bees Are Busy Hoarding Golden Honey.

So I Sit There Kicked My Heels, Thinking About New Orleans, And Watching A Morbid Blue-bottle Fly Attempt To Commit Suicide By Butting His Head Against The Windowpane.