What Is Mind? No Matter.

How Bravely Autumn Paints Upon The Sky The Gorgeous Fame Of Summer Which Is Fled!

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

My Books Kept Me From The Ring, The Dog-pit, The Tavern, And The Saloon.

When Eve Upon The First Of Men The Apple Press'd With Specious Cant, Oh! What A Thousand Pities Then That Adam Was Not Adamant!

When Was Ever Honey Made With One Bee In A Hive?