Besides The Autumn Poets Sing, A Few

We Trust In Plumed Procession For Such The Angels Go Rank After Rank, With Even Feet/and Uniforms Of Snow.

It Is Essential To The Sanity Of Mankind That Each One Should Think The Other Crazy - A Condition With Which The Cynicism Of Human Nature So Cordially Complies, One Could Wish It Were A Concurrence Upon A Subject More Noble.

By Chivalries As Tiny, A Blossom, Or A Book, The Seeds Of Smiles Are Planted- Which Blossom In The Dark.

I Had A Terror-since September -i Could Tell To None-and So I Sing, As The Boy Does By The Burying Ground-because I Am Afraid.

Faith Is A Fine Invention When Gentlemen Can See, But Microscopes Are Prudent In An Emergency.