When He Is Forsaken, Withered And Shaken,

I Resolved That, Like The Sun, As Long As My Day Lasted, I Would Look On The Bright Side Of Everything.

For My Part, Getting Up Seems Not So Easy By Half As Lying.

The Moon, The Moon, So Silver And Cold, Her Fickle Temper Has Oft Been Told, Now Shade--now Bright And Sunny-- But Of All The Lunar Things That Change, The One That Shows Most Fickle And Strange, And Takes The Most Eccentric Range, Is The Moon--so Called--of Honey!

Fuss Is The Froth Of Business.

What Is A Modern Poet's Fate? / To Write His Thoughts Upon A Slate; / The Critic Spits On What Is Done, / Gives It A Wipe - And All Is Gone.