The Poppies Hung Dew-dabbled On Their Stalks.

The World Is Too Brutal For Me-i Am Glad There Is Such A Thing As The Grave-i Am Sure I Shall Never Have Any Rest Till I Get There.

This Grave Contains All That Was Mortal Of A Young English Poet Who On His Death Bed In The Bitterness Of His Heart At The Malicious Power Of His Enemies Desired These Words To Be Engraved On His Tomb Stone "here Lies One Whose Name Was Writ In Water."

Stop And Consider! Life Is But A Day

Let Us Away, My Love, With Happy Speed; There Are No Ears To Hear, Or Eyes To See, - Drown'd All In Rhenish And The Sleepy Mead. Awake! Arise! My Love And Fearless Be, For O'er The Southern Moors I Have A Home For Thee.

There Is An Old Saying "well Begun Is Half Done"-'tis A Bad One. I Would Use Instead-not Begun At All 'til Half Done.