In This World A Man Must Either

Where, Twisted Round The Barren Oak, The Summer Vine In Beauty Clung, And Summer Winds The Stillness Broke, The Crystal Icicle Is Hung.

I Love An Author The More For Having Been Himself A Lover Of Books.

The Soul Never Grows Old.

The Low Desire, The Base Design That Makes Another's Virtues Less.

For The Structure That We Raise, Time Is With Materials Filled; Our To-days And Yesterdays Are The Blocks With Which We Build.