Sing, Riding 's A Joy!

All Poetry Is Difficult To Read - The Sense Of It Anyhow.

As Is Your Sort Of Mind, So Is Your Sort Of Search: You Will Find What You Desire.

I Am Grown Peaceful As Old Age Tonight.

Lost, Lost! One Moment Knelled The Woe Of Years.

Where The Apple Reddens Never Pry - Lest We Lose Our Edens, Eve And I.