I. So far as our story approaches the end, Which do you pity the most of us three? – My friend, or…

Why should I let the toad work Squat on my life? Can’t I use my wit as a pitchfork And drive the…

His chosen comrades thought at school He must grow a famous man; He thought the same and lived by rule, All his…

Fame is a bee. It has a song – It has a sting – Ah, too, it has a wing.

I’m Nobody! Who are you? Are you – Nobody – too? Then there’s a pair of us! Don’t tell! they’d advertise –…

Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate Whose table once a Guest but not The second time is set. Whose…

When I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain, Before high-pilèd books, in…