And Wrinkles, The Damned Democrats, Won't Flatter.

My Hair Is Grey, But Not With Years, Nor Grew It White In A Single Night, As Men's Have Grown From Sudden Fears.

But 'why Then Publish?' There Are No Rewards Of Fame Or Profit When The World Grows Weary. I Ask In Turn Why Do You Play At Cards? Why Drink? Why Read? To Make Some Hour Less Dreary. It Occupies Me To Turn Back Regards On What I've Seen Or Pondered, Sad Or Cheery, And What I Write I Cast Upon The Stream To Swim Or Sink. I Have Had At Least My Dream.

The Very Best Of Vineyards Is The Cellar

Ancient Of Days! August Athena! Where, Where Are Thy Men Of Might? Thy Grand In Soul? Gone--glimmering Through The Dream Of Things That Were; First In The Race That Led To Glory's Goal, They Won, And Pass'd Away--is This The Whole?

Here's A Sigh To Those Who Love Me,and A Smile To Those Who Hate;and, Whatever Sky's Above Me,here's A Heart For Every Fate.