I Must Go In, The Fog Is

Behold This Little Bane- The Boon Of All Alive- As Common As It Is Unknown The Name Of It Is Love.

The Past Is Such A Curious Creature To Look Her In The Face A Transport May Receipt Us Or A Disgrace-.

Nature, Like Us Is Sometimes Caught Without Her Diadem.

To Live Is So Startling It Leaves Little Time For Anything Else.

The Morns Are Meeker Than They Were, The Nuts Are Getting Brown; The Berry's Cheek Is Plumper, The Rose Is Out Of Town. The Maple Wears A Gayer Scarf, The Field A Scarlet Gown. Lest I Should Be Old-fashioned, I'll Put A Trinket On.