Of all tales 'tis the saddest--and more sad, Because it makes us smile.

Egeria! sweet creation of some heart Which found no mortal resting-place so fair As thine ideal breast.

Know ye not who would be free themselves must strike the blow? by their right arms the conquest must be wrought?

I am the very slave of circumstance And impulse borne away with every breath! Misplaced upon the throne misplaced in life. I know not what I could have been, but feel I am not what I should be let it end.

The Coach does not play in the game, but the Coach helps the players identify areas to improve their game.

Yet truth will sometimes lend her noblest fires, And decorate the verse herself inspires: This fact, in virtue's name, let Crabbe attest,- Though Nature's sternest painter, yet the best.

Still from the fount of joy's delicious springs Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings.