-
Why with the time do I not glance aside
-
Rich doldrums / Full of gold
-
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
-
as the women harvest the slopes,
-
It is hard even to admit this theory of hats, that to wear
-
Bookshelves hold up
-
The thunderous music peals
-
that wonderful, old-fashioned word, wend,
-
How red the fire reeks below,
-
A dominie in gray