God Himself Is The Best Poet, And

Experience, Like A Pale Musician, Holds A Dulcimer Of Patience In His Hand.

The Devil's Most Devilish When Respectable.

May The Good God Pardon All Good Men.

That Headlong Ivy! Not A Leaf Will Grow But Thinking Of A Wreath, . . . I Like Such Ivy; Bold To Leap A Height 'twas Strong To Climb! As Good To Grow On Graves As Twist About A Thyrsus; Pretty Too (and That's Not Ill) When Twisted Round A Comb.

You Smell A Rose Through A Fence: If Two Should Smell It, What Matter?