If Childhood Is Still A State, It

Aunts Are Discreet, A Little Shy / By Instinct. They Forbear To Pry.

A Bit Of Trash Now And Then Is Good For The Severest Reader. It Provides The Necessary Roughage In The Literary Diet.

Borrow My Umbrellas, My Clothes, My Money, And I Will Likely Not Think Of Them Again. But Borrow My Books And I Will Be On Your Track Like A Bloodhound Until They Are Returned.

Ah! Some Love Paris, / And Some Purdue. / But Love Is An Archer With A Low I.q. / A Bold, Bad Bowman, And Innocent Of Pity. / So I'm In Love With / New York City.

Oh, Princes Thrive On Caviar, The Poor On Whey And Curds, / And Politicians, I Infer, Must Eat Their Windy Words. / It's Crusts That Feed The Virtuous, It's Cake That Comforts Sinners, / But Writers Live On Bread And Praise At Literary Dinners.