The Book Shd. Be A

Song In The Manner Of Housman" O Woe, Woe, People Are Born And Die, We Also Shall Be Dead Pretty Soon Therefore Let Us Act As If We Were Dead Already. The Bird Sits On The Hawthorn Tree But He Dies Also, Presently. Some Lads Get Hung, And Some Get Shot. Woeful Is This Human Lot. Woe! Woe, Etcetera.... London Is A Woeful Place, Shropshire Is Much Pleasanter. Then Let Us Smile A Little Space Upon Fond Nature's Morbid Grace. Oh, Woe, Woe, Woe, Etcetera.

Pay No Attention To The Criticism Of Men Who Have Never Themselves Written A Notable Work.

A Crowd Pagan As Ever Imperial Rome Was, Eager, Careless, With An Animal Vigour Unlike That Of Any European Crowd That I Have Ever Looked At.

That Text Is Known To Them That Have The Patience To Read It, Possibly One One-hundredth Of One Percent Of The Denizens. They Forget It, All Save A Few Western States. I Think Somebody In Dakota Once Read It. The Constitution.

Poetry Must Be As Well Written As Prose.