The Day Is Gone, And

A Little Noiseless Noise Among The Leaves, Born Of The Very Sigh That Silence Heaves.

There Is An Old Saying "well Begun Is Half Done"-'tis A Bad One. I Would Use Instead-not Begun At All 'til Half Done.

There Is A Budding Morrow In Midnight.

All My Clear-eyed Fish, Golden, Or Rainbow-sided, Or Purplish, Vermilion-tail'd, Or Finn'd With Silvery Gauze... My Charming Rod, My Potent River Spells.

But Were There Ever Any Writhed Not At Passed Joy?