Comfort And Indolence Are Cronies.

There's A Double Beauty Whenever A Swan Swims On A Lake With Her Double Thereon.

A Man That's Fond Precociously Of Stirring , :;:; Must Be A Spoon.

I Saw Old Autumn In The Misty Morn Stand Shadowless Like Silence, Listening To Silence, For No Lonely Bird Would Sing Into His Hollow Ear From Woods Forlorn, Nor Lowly Hedge Nor Solitary Thorn;- Shaking His Languid Locks All Dewy Bright With Tangled Gossamer That Fell By Night, Pearling His Coronet Of Golden Corn.

Such A Blush In The Midst Of Brown Was Born, Like Red Poppies Grown With Corn.

How Bless'd The Heart That Has A Friend. A Sympathizing Ear To Lend.