No words suffice the secret soul to show, For truth denies all eloquence to woe.
Of all the horrid, hideous notes of woe, Sadder than owl-songs or the midnight blast; Is that portentous phrase, "I told you so.
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet.
If I don't write to empty my mind, I go mad.
Tis sweet to listen as the night winds creep From leaf to leaf.
There is, in fact, no law or government at all; and it is wonderful how well things go on without them.