Deep In The Sun-searched Growths The Dragonfly

Was It A Friend Or Foe That Spread These Lies; Nay, Who But Infants Question In Such Wise, Twas One Of My Most Intimate Enemies.

This Sunlight Shames November Where He Grieves In Dead Red Leaves, And Will Not Let Him Shun The Day, Though Bough With Bough Be Overrun. But With A Blessing Every Glade Receives High Salutation.

The Wombat Is A Joy, A Triumph, A Delight, A Madness!

I Am Not As These Are, The Poet Saithin Youth's Pride, And The Painter, Among Menat Bay, Where Never Pencil Comes Nor Pem

Give Honour Unto Luke Evangelist; For He It Was (the Aged Legends Say) Who First Taught Art To Fold Her Hands And Pray.