In life's gay morn, or youthfu' prime, / Ere fancy droops her wing, / Screed up your reed, for that's the time / For bards to rant and sing; …

What he did goes against the rules.

Antique trolleys, too, are in the plan: regular excursions in the picturesque breezers would take visitors across Belle Isle and through James park.

Should that crisis arise — Harriet opened the fridge and took out a half-gallon of milk — I am prepared to go sandwichless. I am not everyone else.