We Watch'd Her Breathing Through

I Saw Old Autumn In The Misty Morn Stand Shadowless Like Silence, Listening To Silence, For No Lonely Bird Would Sing Into His Hollow Ear From Woods Forlorn, Nor Lowly Hedge Nor Solitary Thorn;- Shaking His Languid Locks All Dewy Bright With Tangled Gossamer That Fell By Night, Pearling His Coronet Of Golden Corn.

Apothegms Form A Short Cut To Much Knowledge.

Jasmine Is Sweet, And Has Many Loves.

No Blessed Leisure For Love Or Hope, But Only Time For Grief.

Some Minds Improve By Travel, Others, Rather, Resemble Copper Wire, Or Brass, Which Get The Narrower By Going Farther.