Would you have your songs endure? Build on the human heart.

Rats They fought the dogs and killed the cats, And bit the babies in the cradles, And ate the cheeses out of the vats, And licked the soup from the cook's own ladles. Split open the kegs of salted sprats, Made nests inside men's Sunday hats, And even spoiled the women's chats By drowning their speaking With shrieking and squeaking In fifty different sharps and flats.

Day! Faster and more fast. O'er night's brim, day boils at last.

Let friend trust friends, and love demand love's like.

Our interest's on the dangerous edge of things. The honest thief, the tender murderer, the superstitious atheist.

To me at least was never evening yet, but seemed far beautifuller than its day.

Death: the grand perhaps.