I would build a cloudy House For my thoughts to live in; When for earth too fancy-loose And too low for Heaven! Hush! I talk my dream aloud - I build it bright to see, - I build it on the moonlit cloud, To which I looked with thee.
May the good God pardon all good men.
His ears were often the first thing to catch my tears.
God Himself is the best Poet, And the Real is His song.
Men get opinions as boys learn to spell by reiteration chiefly.
Don't get me wrong-painting's all right. But now that we have photography, what's the point?