Age Is Opportunity No Less Than Youth

I Have A Passion For Ballad. . . . They Are The Gypsy Children Of Song, Born Under Green Hedgerows In The Leafy Lanes And Bypaths Of Literature,--in The Genial Summertime.

Some Critics Are Like Chimney-sweepers; They Put Out The Fire Below, And Frighten The Swallows From Their Nests Above; They Scrape A Long Time In The Chimney, Cover Themselves With Soot, And Bring Nothing Away But A Bag Of Cinders, And Then Sing From The Top Of The House As If They Had Built It.

Oh, How Short Are The Days! How Soon The Night Overtakes Us!

These Stars Of Earth, These Golden Flowers.

The Market-place, The Eager Love Of Gain, Whose Aim Is Vanity, And Whose End Is Pain!