In A Glass of Cider It seemed I was a mite of sediment That waited for the bottom to ferment So I could catch a bubble in ascent. I rode up on one till the bubble burst, And when that left me to sink back reversed I was no worse off than I was at first. I'd catch another bubble if I waited. The thing was to get now and then elated.

A champion of the workingman has never been known to die of overwork.

Tree at my window, window tree, My sash is lowered when night comes on; But let there never be curtain drawn Between you and me.

Love has earth to which she clings.

Belief is better than anything else, and it is best when rapt - above paying its respects to anybody's doubt whatsoever.

An idea is a feat of association.

The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected.