Why comes temptation but for man to meet And master and make crouch beneath his foot, And so be pedestaled in triumph?
Once more on my adventure brave and new.
All June I bound the rose in sheaves, Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves.
The devil, that old stager, who leads downward, perhaps, but fiddles all the way!
O world, as God has made it! All is beauty.
You should not take a fellow eight years old and make him swear to never kiss the girls.