When Man Has Come To

We Have Done With Hope And Honour. We Are Lost To Love And Truth, We Are Dropping Down The Ladder Rung By Rung; And The Measure Of Our Torment Is The Measure Of Our Youth. God Help Us, For We Knew The Worst Too Young!

A Thin Grey Fog Hung Over The City, And The Streets Were Very Cold; For Summer Was In England.

Tis Beauty, So To Speak, Nor Good Talk Necessarily. It's Just It. Some Women Will Stay In A Man's Memory If They Once Walked Down A Street.

Fill The Unforgiving Minute With Sixty Seconds Worth Of Distance Run.

A Tale From Which Pieces Have Been Raked Out Is Like A Fire That Has Been Poked. One Does Not Know The Operation Has Been Performed, But Everyone Feels The Effect.