Never The Time And The Place And

But What If I Fail Of My Purpose Here? It Is But To Keep The Nerves At Strain, To Dry One's Eyes And Laugh At A Fall, And Baffled, Get Up And Begin Again.

My Sun Sets To Rise Again.

All Poetry Is Difficult To Read - The Sense Of It Anyhow.

Truth Never Hurt The Teller.

All June I Bound The Rose In Sheaves, Now, Rose By Rose, I Strip The Leaves.