Oh good gray head which all men knew!

Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace;Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul,While the stars burn, the moons increase,And the great ages onward roll. Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet. Nothing comes to thee new or strange. Sleep full of rest from head to feet;Lie still, dry dust, secure of change.

That man's the true Conservative who lops the moldered branch away.

Forgive! How many will say, forgive, and find a sort of absolution in the sound to hate a little longer!

A lie that is half-truth is the darkest of all lies.

Her eyes are homes of silent prayers.

A simple maiden in her flower, Is worth a hundred coats of arms.