But I can't stand a ma-in-law,

And all her daily rages.

Your little sister I have liked,

And might indeed support her;

But I have said I 'll never wed

A mother with her daughter.

There ended my love affair, but not my poems, Like Wordsworth (pardon the apparently egotistical comparison), I write on every subject, no matter how commonplace it may be. Thus, one of my most popular sonnets is addressed to "My Dog, on Losing his Collar," while a lyrical poem, "To a Hole in my Shoe," has been ranked very high by competent critics, and was even mistaken by some for a posthumous production of the great "Lake" bard.

I manage to make my profession pay by writing rhymed advertisements for newspapers, and epitaphs, of which style of composition I will give specimens before closing: -

Paper collars, nice and neat,

At 47 Harvard Street;

Also ties of every kind

To suit the youthful student mind.

And we throw in coral studs

For our patronizing bloods.

The epitaph, written at the request of a grief-stricken family, was made, by command, short and realistic: -