Nature, Like A True Poet, Abhors Abrupt

It Is Only Kindred Griefs That Draw Forth Our Tears, And Each Weeps Really For Himself.

In The Image Of The Lion Made He Kittens Small And Curious.

The Fountain Of Love Is The Rose And The Lily, The Sun And The Dove.

The Dragon-fly Is Dancing, - Is On The Water Glancing, She Flits About With Nimble Wing, The Flickering, Fluttering, Restless Thing. Besotted Chafers All Admire Her Light-blue, Gauze-like, Neat Attire; They Laud Her Blue Complexion, And Think Her Shape Perfection.

Glow-worms On The Ground Are Moving, As If In The Torch-dance Circling.