And What Is Writ Is Writ -

As Winds Come Whispering Lightly From The West, Kissing, Not Ruffling, The Blue Deep's Serene.

Champagne With Its Foaming Whirls/as White As Cleopatra's Pearls.

In Solitude, When We Are Least Alone.

Tis Pleasant Purchasing Our Fellow-creatures; And All Are To Be Sold, If You Consider Their Passions, And Are Dext'rous; Some By Features Are Brought Up, Others By A Warlike Leader; Some By A Place--as Tend Their Years Or Natures; The Most By Ready Cash--but All Have Prices, From Crowns To Kicks, According To Their Vices.

Like To The Apples On The Dead Sea's Shore, All Ashes To The Taste.