All human joys are swift of wing, For heaven doth so allot it; That when you get an easy thing, You find you haven't got it

Here we have a baby. It is composed of a bald head and a pair of lungs.

All human joys are swift of wing, For heaven doth so allot it; That when you get an easy thing, You find you haven't got it

Not so, however, with books, for books cannot change. A thousand years hence they are what you find them to-day, speaking the same words, holding forth the same cheer, the same promise, the same comfort; always constant, laughing with those who laugh and weeping with those who weep.

What smells so? Has somebody been burning a Rag, or is there a Dead Mule in the Back yard? No, the Man is Smoking a Five-Cent Cigar.

Winkin', Blinkin', and Nod, one night sailed off in a wooden shoe; Sailed off on a river of crystal light into a sea of dew. "Where are you going and what do you wish?" the old moon asked the three. "We've come to fish for the herring fish that live in this beautiful sea. Nets of silver and gold have we," said Winkin', Blinkin', and Nod.

I never lost a little fish - Yes, I'm free to say. It always was the biggest fish I caught, that got away.