Sure The Shovel And Tongs To Each

For A Ballad's A Thing You Expect To Find Lies In.

When Once The Itch Of Literature Comes Over A Man, Nothing Can Cure It But The Scratching Of A Pen. But If You Have Not A Pen, I Suppose You Must Scratch Any Way You Can.

To Return After Long Years Of Painful Absence To Some Place Which Has Been The Scene Of Our Former Joys, And Whence The Force Of Circumstance, And Not Choice, Has Driven Us, Is Oppressive To The Heart.

What Is Wine? It Is The Grape Present In Another Form; Its Essence Is There, Though The Fruit Which Produced It Grew Thousands Of Miles Away, And Perished Years Ago. So The Object Of Many A Tender Thought May Be Spiritually Present, In Defiance Of Space - And Fond Recollections Cherished In Defiance Of Time.

The Neck On Which Diamonds Might Have Worthily Sparkled, Will Look Less Tempting When The Biting Winter Has Hung Icicles There For Gems.