Front matter

I Crown the heads of better men With lilies and with morning-glories! I'm unworthy of a pen— These are Bread-and-Butter stories. Shall I tell you how I know? Strangers wrote and told me so. II He who only toils for fame I pronounce a silly Billy. I can't dine upon a name, Or look dressy in a lily. And—oh shameful truth to utter!— I won't live on bread and butter. III Sometimes now (and sometimes then) Meat and wine my soul requires. Satan tempted me—my pen Fills the house with open fires. I must have a horse or two— Babies, oh my Love—and you!