No eye to watch, and no tongue to wound us, All earth forgot, and all heaven around us.

And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.

Boys are capital fellows in their own way, among their mates; but they are unwholesome companions for grown people.

All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

The world meets nobody half way.

A presentation copy, reader,-if haply you are yet innocent of such favours-is a copy of a book which does not sell, sent you by the author.

Fly not yet; 't is just the hour When pleasure, like the midnight flower That scorns the eye of vulgar light, Begins to bloom for sons of night And maids who love the moon.