Love To Faults Is Always Blind, Always

Prudence Is A Rich, Ugly, Old Maid Courted By Incapacity.

My Mother Groaned, My Father Wept, Into The Dangerous World I Leapt.

Sweet Babe, In Thy Face Soft Desires I Can Trace, Secret Joys And Secret Smiles, Little Pretty Infant Wiles.

When The Sun Rises, Do You Not See A Round Disc Of Fire Somewhat Like A Guinea? O No, No, I See An Innumerable Company Of The Heavenly Host Crying Holy, Holy, Holy Is The Lord God Almighty.

And I Made A Rural Pen, And I Stained The Water Clear, And I Wrote My Happy Songs Every Child May Joy To Hear.