And may the few be well chosen.
Evils in the journey of life are like the hills which alarm travelers upon their road; they both appear great in the distance, but when we approach them, we find them far less insurmountable than we had conceived.
Miss ----! O Miss ----!
What can I write that’s new
Among so very many
Pretty compliments to you?
In poetry, I fear I’d fail—
I’m very sure I’d stammer—