Great Women Belong To History And To

Bread, Milk And Butter Are Of Venerable Antiquity. They Taste Of The Morning Of The World.

O Scaly, Slippery, Wet, Swift, Staring Wights, What Is 't Ye Do? What Life Lead? Eh, Dull Goggles? How Do Ye Vary Your Vile Days And Nights? How Pass Your Sundays? Are Ye Still But Joggles In Ceaseless Wash? Still Nought But Gapes And Bites, And Drinks, And Stares, Diversified With Boggles.

Patience And Gentleness Is Power.

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.

The Fish Is Swift, Small-needing, Vague Yet Clear, A Cold, Sweet, Silver Life, Wrapped In Round Waves.