Here Is A Rural Fellow That Will

Were All The Letters Sun, I Could Not See One.

Though She Be But Little, She Is Fierce!

For They Are Yet Ear-kissing Arguments.

The Crown O' The Earth Doth Melt. My Lord! O, Wither'd Is The Garland Of The War, The Soldier's Pole Is Fall'n: Young Boys And Girls Are Level Now With Men; The Odds Is Gone, And There Is Nothing Left Remarkable Beneath The Visiting Moon.

Ten Kisses Short As One, One Long As Twenty.