Would You Be A Poet Before You've

When, As A Child, I First Opened My Eyes On A Sunday-morning, A Feeling Of Dismal Anicipation, Which Began At Least On The Friday,culminated. I Knew What Was Before Me, And My Wish, If Not My Word, Was "would God It Were Evening!" It Was No Day Of Rest, But A Day Of Texts, Of Catechisms (watts'), Of Tracts About Converted Swearers, Godly Charwomen, And Edifying Deaths Of Sinners Saved.... There Was But One Rosy Spot, In The Distance, All That Day: And That Was "bed-time," Which Never Could Come Too Early!

I'd Give All The Wealth That Years Have Piled, The Slow Result Of Life's Decay, To Be Once More A Little Child For One Bright Summer Day.

You Know," He (tweedledee) Added Very Gravely, "it's One Of The Most Serious Things That Can Possibly Happen To One In A Battle--to Get One's Head Cut Off." Pg. 199

I Have Proved By Actual Trial That A Letter, That Takes An Hour To Write, Takes Only About 3 Minutes To Read!

Alice Thought To Herself, 'then There's No Use In Speaking.' The Voices Didn't Join In This Time, As She Hadn't Spoken, But To Her Great Surprise, They All Thought In Chorus (i Hope You Understand What Thinking In Chorus Means--for I Must Confess That I Don't), 'better Say Nothing At All. Language Is Worth A Thousand Pounds A Word!