This Is The Age Of Oddities Let

Muse Of The Many Twinkling Feet, Whose Charms Are Now Extending Up From Legs To Arms.

Sighing That Nature Formed But One Such Man, And Broke The Die.

The Simple Wordsworth . . . / Who, Both By Precept And Example, Shows / That Prose Is Verse, And Verse Is Merely Prose.

On With The Dance! Let Joy Be Unconfin'd No Sleep Till Morn, When Youth And Pleasure Meet To Chase The Glowing Hours With Flying Feet

The Cold, The Changed, Perchance The Dead, Anew, The Mourn'd, The Loved, The Lost,-too Many, Yet How Few!