I Cut My Own Hair. I Got

All Those Who Try To Go It Sole Alone, Too Proud To Be Beholden For Relief, Are Absolutely Sure To Come To Grief.

Summoning Artists To Participate In The August Occasions Of The State Seems Something Artists Ought To Celebrate. Today Is For My Cause A Day Of Days.

The Sidelong Glance Is What You Depend On.

But These Are Flowers That Fly And All But Sing: And Now From Having Ridden Out Desire They Lie Closed Over In The Wind And Cling Where Wheels Have Freshly Sliced The April Mire.

I Do Not See Why I Should E’er Turn Back, Or Those Should Not Set Forth Upon My Track To Overtake Me, Who Should Miss Me Here And Long To Know If Still I Held Them Dear. They Would Not Find Me Changed From Him They Knew — Only More Sure Of All I Thought Was True.