I, A Stranger And Afraid, In A

Lovers Lying Two And Two Ask Not Whom They Sleep Beside, And The Bridegroom All Night Through Never Turns Him To The Bride.

Loveliest Of Trees, The Cherry Now Is Hung With Bloom Along The Bough.

In Every American There Is An Air Of Incorrigible Innocence, Which Seems To Conceal A Diabolical Cunning.

Shoulder The Sky, My Lad, And Drink Your Ale.

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.