Though Patience Be A Tired Mare, Yet

Nothing Teems But Hateful Docks, Rough Thistles, Kecksies, Burs, Losing Both Beauty And Utility.

Some Smack Of Age In You, Some Relish Of The Saltness Of Time.

Men Should Be What They Seem.

The Clock Upbraids Me With The Waste Of Time.

He's A Soldier; And For One To Say A Soldier Lies, Is Stabbing.