I Love A Ballad In

And Thus I Clothe My Naked Villainy With Odd Old Ends Stol'n Out Of Holy Writ; And Seem A Saint, When Most I Play The Devil.

Why, Universal Plodding Poisons Up The Nimble Spirits In The Arteries, As Motion And Long-during Action Tires The Sinewy Vigor Of The Traveller.

Taffeta Phrases, Silken Terms Precise, Three-piled Hyperboles, Spruce Affection, Figures Pedantical--these Summer Flies Have Blown Me Full Of Maggot Ostentation.

I Have Sounded The Very Base-string Of Humility.

Now I Am Past All Comforts Here, But Prayer.