Were I Diogenes, I would not move out of a kilderkin into a hogshead, though the first had had nothing but small beer in it, and the second reeked claret.

Who has not felt how sadly sweet The dream of home, the dream of home, Steals o'er the heart, too soon to fleet, When far o'er sea or land we roam?

Of all sound of all bells... most solemn and touching is the peal which rings out the Old Year.

New Year's Day is every man's birthday.

Our spirits grow gray before our hairs.

Thus, when the lamp that lighted The traveller at first goes out, He feels awhile benighted, And looks around in fear and doubt. But soon, the prospect clearing, By cloudless starlight on he treads, And thinks no lamp so cheering As that light which Heaven sheds.

Farewell, farewell to thee, Araby's daughter! Thus warbled a Peri beneath the dark sea.