There Shakespeare, on whose forehead climb The crowns o' the world; oh, eyes sublime With tears and laughter for all time!

With stammering lips and insufficient sound I strive and struggle to deliver right the music of my nature.

It is difficult to get rid of people when you once have given them too much pleasure.

She has seen the mystery hid Under Egypt's pyramid: By those eyelids pale and close Now she knows what Rhamses knows.

And Marlowe, Webster, Fletcher, Ben, Whose fire-hearts sowed our furrows when The world was worthy of such men.

Why, what is to live? Not to eat and drink and breathe,—but to feel the life in you down all the fibres of being, passionately and joyfully.

Gaze up at the stars knowing that I see the same sky and wish the same sweet dreams.