Poetry Is The Breath Of Beauty.

Christmas Is The Glorious Time Of Great Too-much.

Poetry Is The Breath Of Beauty.

We Are Violets Blue, For Our Sweetness Found Careless In The Mossy Shades, Looking On The Ground. Love's Dropp'd Eyelids And A Kiss,-- Such Our Breath And Blueness Is.

To Receive A Present Handsomely And In A Right Spirit, Even When You Have None To Give In Return, Is To Give One In Return.

The Beautiful Attracts The Beautiful.