The Thoughts Of Youth Are Long, Long

It Has Done Me Good To Be Somewhat Parched By The Heat And Drenched By The Rain Of Life.

And The Wind Plays On Those Great Sonorous Harps, The Shrouds And Masts Of Ships.

Maiden, That Read'st This Simple Rhyme, Enjoy Thy Youth, It Will Not Stay; Enjoy The Fragrance Of Thy Prime, For Oh, It Is Not Always May!

Listen My Children And You Shall Hear, Of The Midnight Ride Of Paul Revere

The Leaves Of Memory Seemed To Make A Mournful Rustling In The Dark