If Any Foes Of Mine Are There,

Pluck Not The Wayside Flower; It Is The Traveler's Dower.

I Believe In Success, And In Comfort No Less I Believe All The Rest Is But Patter.

Not Like Homer Would I Write, Not Like Dante If I Might, Not Like Shakespeare At His Best, Not Like Goethe Or The Rest, Like Myself, However Small, Like Myself, Or Not At All.

Sin We Have Explain'd Away; Unluckily, The Sinners Stay.

Autumn's The Mellow Time.