Our Spirits Grow Gray Before

There Are Like To Be Short Graces Where The Devil Plays Host.

Merit, God Knows, Is Very Little Rewarded.

For God's Sake (i Never Was More Serious) Don't Make Me Ridiculous Any More By Terming Me Gentle-hearted In Print.

No Woman Dresses Below Herself From Mere Caprice.

All, All Are Gone, The Old Familiar Faces.