Poetry Is Not The Thing Said, But

Oh, 'tis Jesting, Dancing, Drinking Spins The Heavy World Around.

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

There, Like The Wind Through Woods In Riot, Through Him The Gale Of Life Blew High; The Tree Of Man Was Never Quiet: Then 'twas The Roman, Now 'tis I.

Luck's A Chance, But Trouble's Sure.

All Knowledge Is Precious Whether Or Not It Serves The Slightest Human Use.