Coquetry Is The Champagne Of

I Remember, I Remember The Fir-trees Dark And High; I Used To Think Their Slender Tops Were Close Against The Sky; It Was A Childish Ignorance, But Now 't Is Little Joy To Know I'm Farther Off From Heaven Than When I Was A Boy.

A Name, It Has More Than Nominal Worth, And Belongs To Good Or Bad Luck At Birth

Such A Blush In The Midst Of Brown Was Born, Like Red Poppies Grown With Corn.

The Biggest Bore Of All Is He Who Is Overflowing With Congratulations

Spontaneously To God Should Turn The Soul, Like The Magnetic Needle To The Pole; But What Were That Intrinsic Virtue Worth, Suppose Some Fellow, With More Zeal Than Knowledge, Fresh From St. Andrew's College, Should Nail The Conscious Needle To The North?