Jasmine Is Sweet, And Has Many Loves.

Spontaneously To God Should Turn The Soul, Like The Magnetic Needle To The Pole; But What Were That Intrinsic Virtue Worth, Suppose Some Fellow, With More Zeal Than Knowledge, Fresh From St. Andrew's College, Should Nail The Conscious Needle To The North?

Some Sigh For This And That; My Wishes Don't Go Far; The World May Wag At Will, So I Have My Cigar.

The Autumn Is Old; The Sere Leaves Are Flying; He Hath Gather'd Up Gold, And Now He Is Dying;- Old Age, Begin Sighing!

What Is A Modern Poet's Fate? / To Write His Thoughts Upon A Slate; / The Critic Spits On What Is Done, / Gives It A Wipe - And All Is Gone.

Some Dreams We Have Are Nothing Else But Dreams, Unnatural And Full Of Contradictions; Yet Others Of Our Most Romantic Schemes, Are Something More Than Fictions.