All round the room my silent servants wait, My friends in every season, bright and dim.
Most writers steal a good thing when they can, and when 'Tis safely got 'Tis worth the winning. The worst of 't is we now and then detect em, they ever dream that we suspect em.
I never was on the dull, tame shore, But I loved the great sea more and more.
Despair doth strike as deep a furrow in the brain as mischief or remorse.
Oh, the summer night, Has a smile of light, And she sits on a sapphire throne.
A single star is rising in the east, and from afar sheds a most tremulous lustre; silent Night doth wear it like a jewel on her brow.