Now, Of My Threescore Years And Ten,

Give Me A Land Of Boughs In Leaf A Land Of Trees That Stand; Where Trees Are Fallen There Is Grief; I Love No Leafless Land.

The House Of Delusions Is Cheap To Build But Drafty To Live In.

I Could No More Define Poetry Than A Terrier Can Define A Rat.

You Smile Upon Your Friend To-day, To-day His Ills Are Over; You Hearken To The Lover's Say, And Happy Is The Lover. 'tis Late To Hearken, Late To Smile, But Better Late Than Never: I Shall Have Lived A Little While Before I Die For Ever.

But If You Ever Come To A Road Where Danger; Or Guilt Or Anguish Or Shame's To Share. Be Good To The Lad Who Loves You True, And The Soul That Was Born To Die For You; And Whistle And I'll Be There.