To Contemplation's Sober Eye. /

Any Fool May Write A Most Valuable Book By Chance, If He Will Only Tell Us What He Heard And Saw With Veracity.

Dear As The Light That Visits These Sad Eyes, Dear As The Ruddy Drops That Warm My Heart.

I Shall Be But A Shrimp Of An Author.

T'was Spring, T'was Summer, All Was Gay Now Autumn Bears A Cloud Brow The Flowers Of Spring Are Swept Way And Summer Fruits Desert The Bough

We Frolic While 'tis May.