I will not poke around outside during the day. I will loaf in the poet’s orchard under the breezy moonlight.
Poetical existence is just enough. I will withdraw me to the sanctuary of the Muses.
R
Heaven be with my soul! Amen!
S
Good-bye, my dear old world!
21st—A Chinaman passed with a weighty load of washing on his shoulder.
“Friend, stop a minute! Take a glass with me before you go!”
The poet rolled out with a claret bottle.
Did you ever see a Chinee in love? Did you ever see one smile?