As The Master So The Valet.

See The Gold Sunshine Patching, And Streaming And Streaking Across The Gray-green Oaks; And Catching, By Its Soft Brown Beard, The Moss.

Mind And Night Will Meet, Though In Silence, Like Forbidden Lovers.

There Is No Surer Mark Of The Absence Of The Highest Moral And Intellectual Qualities Than A Cold Reception Of Excellence.

Oh, Could We Lift The Future's Sable Shroud.

The Truth Of Truths Is Love.