The busy have no time for tears.

Religion-freedom-vengeance-what you will, A word's enough to raise mankind to kill.

Yet he was jealous, though he did not show it, For jealousy dislikes the world to know it.

With thee all tales are sweet; each clime has charms; earth - sea alike - our world within our arms.

Society is now one polished horde, formed of two mighty tries, the Bores and Bored.

So we'll go no more a-roving So late into the night, Though the heart still be as loving, And the moon still be as bright. For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul outwears the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe, And love itself have rest. Though the night was made for loving, And the day returns too soon, Yet we'll go no more a-roving By the light of the moon.

I should like to know who has been carried off, except poor dear me - I have been more ravished myself than anybody since the Trojan war.