I Tasted Life.

Death Is A Supple Suitor, That Wins At Last. It Is A Stealthy Wooing; Conducted First By Pallid Innuendos And Dim Approach, But Brave At Last With Bugles.

Why Should We Censure Othello When The Criterion Lover Says, "thou Shalt Have No Other Gods Before Me"?

To Make A Prairie It Takes A Clover And One Bee, -

What Fortitude The Soul Contains, That It Can So Endure The Accent Of A Coming Foot- The Opening Of A Door.

Endow The Living - With The Tears - You Squander On The Dead.