Load Every Rift With Ore.

They Swayed About Upon A Rocking Horse, And Thought It Pegasus.

You Are Always New To Me.

You Cannot Conceive How I Ache To Be With You: How I Would Die For One Hour.

Give Me Books, French Wine, Fruit, Fine Weather And A Little Music Played Out Of Doors By Somebody I Do Not Know.

His Old Right Hand Lay Nerveless, Listless, Dead, Unsceptred; And His Realmless Eyes Were Closed.