This banquet now adjourns until it meets
Another wingéd angel of the sort
Which it has just discussed—may it be soon!”
Lady, this lyric runs no further on.
EST MODUS IN REBUS
a narrative of new york
I would not say to man, “Don’t spread yourself
To win the admiration of mankind,”
Since he who never spreads can never shine,
And he who never shines is never seen,
And he who’s never seen is counted out