O sweet September, thy first breezes bring the dry leaf's rustle and the squirrel's laughter. The cool fresh air whence health and vigor spring and promise of exceeding joy hereafter.
George Arnold, September Days.
The living need charity more than the dead.George Arnold
Here With my beer I sit, While golden moments flit: Alas! They pass Unheeded by: And as they fly, I, Being dry, Sit, idly sipping here My beer.George Arnold
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