The True Poet Dreams Being Awake.

Asparagus Inspires Gentle Thoughts.

We Are Nothing; Less Than Nothing, And Dreams. We Are Only What Might Have Been, And Must Wait Upon The Tedious Shores Of Lethe Millions Of Ages Before We Have Existence, And A Name.

Beholding Heaven, And Feeling Hell.

Shut Not Thy Purse-strings Always Against Painted Distress.

Who First Invented Work, And Bound The Free And Holiday-rejoicing Spirit Down . . . . To That Dry Drudgery At The Desk's Dead Wood? . . . . Sabbathless Satan!