If Life Had A Second Edition, How

Yet Simple Souls, Their Faith It Knows No Stint: Things Least To Be Believed Are Most Preferred. All Counterfeits, As From Truth's Sacred Mint, Are Readily Believed If Once Put Down In Print

Loud Is The Summer's Busy Song The Smallest Breeze Can Find A Tongue, While Insects Of Each Tiny Size Grow Teasing With Their Melodies, Till Noon Burns With Its Blistering Breath Around, And Day Lies Still As Death.

How Oft A Summer Shower Has Started Me; To Seek The Shelter Of A Hollow Tree

If Life Had A Second Edition, How I Would Correct The Proofs.

The Present Is The Funeral Of The Past, And Man The Living Sepulchre Of Life.