What Is Mind? No Matter.

It Was Not In The Winter Our Loving Lot Was Cast! It Was The Time Of Roses, We Plucked Them As We Passed!

Fuss Is The Froth Of Business.

Whilst Breezy Waves Toss Up Their Silvery Spray.

Alas For The Rarity Of Christian Charity Under The Sun!

My Brain Is Dull, My Sight Is Foul, I Cannot Write A Verse, Or Read-- Then, Pallas, Take Away Thine Owl, And Let Us Have A Lark Instead.