The Mother's Kiss Is The Sweetest Thing

Not Like Homer Would I Write, Not Like Dante If I Might, Not Like Shakespeare At His Best, Not Like Goethe Or The Rest, Like Myself, However Small, Like Myself, Or Not At All.

Oh, Bring Again My Heart's Content, Thou Spirit Of The Summer-time!

Pluck Not The Wayside Flower; It Is The Traveler's Dower.

History Of Ireland--lawlessness And Turbulency, Robbery And Oppression, Hatred And Revenge, Blind Selfishness Everywhere--no Principle, No Heroism. What Can Be Done With It?

Now Autumn's Fire Burns Slowly Along The Woods And Day By Day The Dead Leaves Fall And Melt.