But Men At Whiles Are Sober And

The Average Man, If He Meddles With Criticism At All, Is A Conservative Critic.

His Folly Has Not Fellow Beneath The Blue Of Day That Gives To Man Or Woman His Heart And Soul Away.

Experience Has Taught Me, When I Am Shaving Of A Morning, To Keep Watch Over My Thoughts, Because, If A Line Of Poetry Strays Into My Memory, My Skin Bristles So That The Razor Ceases To Act.

Good Religious Poetry... Is Likely To Be Most Justly Appreciated And Most Discriminately Relished By The Undevout.

There, By The Starlit Fences The Wanderer Halts And Hears My Soul That Lingers Sighing About The Glimmering Weirs.