If Ancient Tales Say True,

'tis Pleasant, Sure, To See One's Name In Print. A Book's A Book, Although There's Nothing In 't.

I Love Not Man The Less, But Nature More.

Time Strips Our Illusions Of Their Hue, And One By One In Turn, Some Grand Mistake Casts Off Its Bright Skin Yearly Like The Snake.

The Place Is Very Well And Quiet And The Children Only Scream In A Low Voice.

This Is To Be Along; This, This Is Solitude!