I Equally Dislike The Favor Of The

My Friends Should Drink A Dozen Of Claret On My Tomb.

Where Soil Is, Men Grow, Whether To Weeds Or Flowers.

Young Playmates Of The Rose And Daffodil, Be Careful Ere Ye Enter In, To Fill Your Baskets High With Fennel Green, And Balm, And Golden Pines Savory Latter-mint, And Columbines.

Tall Oaks Branch Charmed By The Earnest Stars Dream And So Dream All Night Without A Stir.

How Astonishingly Does The Chance Of Leaving The World Improve A Sense Of Its Natural Beauties Upon Us. Like Poor Falstaff, Although I Do Not 'babble,' I Think Of Green Fields; I Muse With The Greatest Affection On Every Flower I Have Know From My Infancy - Their Shapes And Colours Are As New To Me As If I Had Just Created Them With Superhuman Fancy.